If I Had A Dollar
by ozhawk
Summary: Continuation of the Soulmate Short featuring Skye and Angel from X-Men. I was begged to continue this one, exploring Angel's strange new erogenous zone on his wings... LOL. Smutty, as if you couldn't guess.
1. If I Had A Dollar

**If I Had A Dollar…**

_Skye/Angel_

SkyAngel?

_Theme song:_

_Foo Fighters – Learn To Fly_

**Just a note: Angel's real name is Warren Worthington III and he's heir, and later owner, of a Fortune 500 company. In this version, he's concealing what he really is from pretty much everybody.**

**I got begged for a sequel before the original Short for this pairing had even been published, by the lovely phoenix_173 who beta-reads my X-Men stories for me to check I've got them in character. (I think she was actually panting at the thought of Warren's wings being an erogenous zone…)**

**So without further ado – here it comes. We won't be getting to the smut quite yet as I have a bit of setup to create first, but never fear, it's not far away…**

**Chapter One – If I Had A Dollar**

"How do you know it's not a trap?"

"I don't. That's why I brought you."

"Phiiiil," Skye whined. "Come on, you gotta tell me _something_."

"You know plenty about Warren Worthington III. I saw you and Jemma sighing over that magazine where he took over Tony Stark's title for Most Eligible Bachelor, now Stark's off the market."

Skye blushed slightly. "Yeah, yeah, billionaire playboy philanthropist and all that. What I don't get is why _you're_ interested in him."

"His name was on a list Fury left me in the Toybox. As a possible source of 'black' funding for the new S.H.I.E.L.D., and no I _don't_ know why that might be. I _do_ know he agreed to meet and he said it had to be here and that I could bring one person only with me. As much as I was tempted to bring May because she doesn't _talk so much_," Phil gave Skye a meaningful look, "realistically _you're_ the most dangerous person on the team these days."

"Just seems like a really weird-ass place for a successful businessman to want to meet," Skye grumbled quietly as they walked down into the small valley. It was a pretty place, she had to admit, a shallow grassy bowl with a small stream burbling through the middle of it. The tall, blond man standing by the stream looked thoroughly out of place in his expensive business suit.

"Mr Coulson." Worthington stepped forward, held out a manicured hand. Hard blue eyes raked once over Skye and clearly dismissed her as unimportant.

"Mr Worthington. Thank you for agreeing to meet with me." Phil heard Skye's teeth grind and hoped she wouldn't lose her temper.

_What an asshole. He might be gorgeous, and more broad-shouldered than I expected, and wow he could cut glass with those cheekbones_… Skye shook herself, irritated. _He's an asshole, no matter how pretty he is._

_He sure is pretty, though – oh what the hell, there's no law against looking_.

Phil hoped he was concealing his irritation a lot better than Skye was. She was practically glaring a hole through Worthington. The guy was being arrogant, though, and very evasive in his answers. Only the mention of Fury's name got a reaction out of him, broad shoulders shifting uncomfortably under his suit jacket.

"Fury and I had an agreement," Warren said coldly, feeling a sudden panic rising in him. _Shit, who else did Fury tell?_ Did this innocuous-looking man _know_ about him? Was this some sort of attempt at extortion? He glanced at the girl, who hadn't stopped staring at him. She was pretty enough that at any other time he might have felt flattered. Looked back at Coulson.

"I'm not privy to whatever agreement you had with Fury," Phil said, wearying of Worthington's evasiveness. "I'm the new Director of S.H.I.E.L.D., but we're now a black operation and we don't have funding. Your name was top of the list Fury left me of people who might be willing to help. That's the reason I called. That's the _only_ reason I called."

The two men stared at each other for a long moment. Warren could still feel that cold shiver down his back, feel his wings trying to tremble, escape from their confinement. He didn't dare turn his back on them for fear that the two agents would see the odd movements under his clothes.

"I'm sorry you've had a wasted trip," he said finally. _I can't risk anyone else learning my secret_…

Skye lost her tenuous grip on her temper. The ground shook beneath their feet, Coulson stumbled and would have fallen if she hadn't grabbed his arm, and Worthington…

Worthington rose off the ground, propelled by enormous white wings that had literally _torn_ free from his clothes, shredding his expensive shirt and suit coat.

The ground stopped shaking. Warren settled back to his feet with a sigh, taking in the open-mouthed, astonished expressions of Coulson and his companion.

"Well, fuck, you didn't know after all," he said to Coulson.

"Are you an angel?" Skye asked a bit dumbly, utterly stunned by those wings. They had to be nearly twenty feet across.

"If I had a dollar for every time I've heard that…" _well, I wouldn't be all that much richer than I am now. And I still wouldn't have my soulmate._

"Those are my soulmark words!" Skye said in surprise.

"They what?" he blinked. He was just about to demand _Show me_, but realised she probably already thought he was an arrogant ass. He turned instead, flicking his wings up so he didn't whack her with them, showing her the cliché written between his shoulder blades. _Are you an angel?_ "Is this your writing?"

Gentle fingers brushed his skin – and the delicate feathers that grew around the words. Warren shuddered with sudden shock. _Oh my God that's an erogenous zone. No one ever touched me there before_…

"It's my writing," Skye said quietly. She looked at Phil.

"I'll be in the car."

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean… did that hurt?" she couldn't help but touch the downy feathers again as Phil walked hurriedly away. They were unbelievably soft.

"N-no," he stuttered. "Not hurt. Ahhh!" he had to turn around, even though she might look down and see how aroused he was, because if she touched him there again he was going to do something very embarrassing like stain his pants. He was already going to have to find another shirt from somewhere. Pants might be trickier.

His wings folded around Skye as he turned and reached to take her hands in his. They were incredibly soft.

"We got off to a bad start. Won't you tell me your name?" Warren asked quietly.

"Skye," she smiled up at him wonderingly.

He smiled crookedly. "How appropriate. The sky's my favourite place to be."

She couldn't help but laugh as his wings gathered her closer, his head tilting down towards hers. "I think I'm going to like flying when it's with you."

**So obviously this is just a repeat of the original Short. Click on to Chapter 2 to find out what happens next…**


	2. It Doesn't Hurt

**Chapter Two – It Doesn't Hurt**

Warren's lips were warm and firm over hers, his arms strong as he held her, the incredible warmth and softness of his wings surrounding them both. Skye wasn't sure where to put her hands – around his neck seemed out as she'd get a fistful of feathers, with his wings arched up and over as they were – so she slipped them around his lean waist instead and up his back, where she encountered another handful of those fine, downy feathers…

… and he shuddered and moaned against her.

"What?" she jerked back, regretfully breaking the very pleasant kiss. "I'm so sorry – I thought you said it didn't hurt!"

"It doesn't _hurt_," he let out another low moan as her fingers brushed the feathers again. "I – _ahhhh_ – I'm afraid that seems to be an erogenous zone for me – oh God, Skye, _please_…"

"Oh!" she froze, eyes going very wide. He sounded like a man right on the edge of orgasm. Oh, and that hardness pressing against her stomach? Definitely not a gun in his pocket. "Did you not _know_ that being touched there leads to this reaction?" she asked after a moment, when he pressed his face against her hair and panted.

"No. Never let anyone touch my wings."

"But…" she considered, and discarded, a number of questions. "You've got a reputation as a playboy, how the hell did you hide them?" was the burning question that eventually made its way out.

He grinned a bit ruefully, taking deep breaths and slowly drawing back from the brink as her hands fell away from his back – even though he wanted to beg her to put them back. _Wow, I'm really going to have to learn to control that reaction._

"I wish I could tell you that it's all crap and I've been celibate as a monk, but unfortunately the rotten truth is I don't take my shirt off."

"Oh," she looked up at him, reminded that he was considered an extremely eligible bachelor, for those icy blond good looks just as much as his extreme wealth. And there had to be girls throwing themselves at him all the time, for both reasons. "You don't let them touch your back?"

He grimaced, not meeting her eyes. "I have a reputation for certain preferences. Do we really have to be having this discussion about my sexual habits on our first meeting?"

"I think we kind of do, yeah, considering what just happened!"

"Shit. Fine, then," he let go of her and turned away, his wings folding up to his back, amazingly tight and compact considering the sheer size of them when they were unfolded. He was actually quite a lot slimmer than he'd looked in the well-tailored jacket, the wings giving the illusion of a much bulkier torso when covered by clothes. Her words were invisible when his wings were folded, Skye saw.

"You really want to know?" Warren looked back at her, saw her biting on her lip uncertainly, but then she nodded. "Fine. I only fuck girls who know the score; I tell them I'm a control freak and I either tie them down or do them from behind so they have no opportunity to touch my back. And I certainly don't invite any of them to hang around afterwards. There. Happy now?" He couldn't look at her as he told her the ugly truth.

Humiliated by his blunt, brutal words, by his obvious pain, Skye hung her head. "I'm sorry," she said. "I didn't mean to push, Warren."

"You had a right to ask." He turned around slowly. "I just – I'm sensitive about it. It _isn't_ what I like, it isn't what I _want_. It's all I've been able to have."

She stood twisting her hands together, uncertain what to say, until he said;

"You're not normal either, are you? I felt that earth tremor. Was that you?"

Skye nodded, feeling tears prick at her eyelids. "Were you exposed to an Obelisk, too?"

She expected him to say yes, was shocked when he shook his head. "I don't know what that is. My wings just started growing one day, when I was about twelve. My father freaked, pulled me out of school, covered everything up."

Warren sighed, reached for Skye's hand. She was staring at him from wide, startled eyes. "I'm not my father's son. My mother died when I was five, so unfortunately I can't ask her just who, or indeed _what_, did sire me. DNA tests – done anonymously – show I'm not even entirely human."

"But your father – Warren Worthington II, that is, he accepted you?"

"Pretty much pure ego, he didn't want to admit to the world that his wife screwed around on him." Warren shrugged angrily. "Plus he'd suffered an illness and become infertile. Couldn't get another heir even if he wanted to. I was it. He tried to have my wings surgically removed – I let him, I didn't want them, felt I was a freak. They grew back."

"You're not a freak!" Skye almost threw herself at him. "God, no, don't ever think that, your wings are the most beautiful thing I've ever seen!"

He caught her, a smile curving those thin, hard lips. "Well, at least the universe gave me a soulmate who thinks that," he murmured as her hands slipped to his back, sank into the mass of soft feathers.

"We'll find somewhere that you can fly without having to hide them," Skye promised. "Coulson and his team are amazing, they accept me, S.H.I.E.L.D. work with a number of people with powers, the Avengers included."

"I don't want other people to know about me. I can do a lot more good where I am, if I'm outed as a mutant winged freak, there's no chance I'll be able to keep control of the company…"

"It's all right," she couldn't help stroking at his feathers. He stilled under her touch, letting out a little sigh of pleasure. "No one will find out. We're a 'black' organisation, remember?"

"I suppose this is where I agree to fund you," Warren's mouth curved in a wry smile.

"I'm not for sale," Skye bristled.

"I'm not trying to buy you. If S.H.I.E.L.D. really is helping people like you and me, people who are different, then I can't think of a better place to put my money. It's obviously needed or Coulson wouldn't have called. Besides," he traced a gentle finger down her cheek, "you deserve the best of everything." He glanced down at her cheap, chain-store jeans, her battered old boots, lightly fingered the collar of the jacket she'd picked up at Goodwill. "You're beautiful, Skye, never doubt it – but I'd love to see you in silk, in designer clothes, in Prada boots. Take you to society events, show you off, show the world that Warren Worthington III _can_ get a girlfriend and keep her."

Skye had been about to protest – right up until he said the last few words and she heard the loneliness he was trying so hard to hide.

"I don't think I'd be very good at being a society girlfriend," she admitted, thinking of that one posh party she'd crashed, at Ian Quinn's place in Malta. That hadn't exactly ended well.

"You don't have to do anything but look beautiful and mysterious," he murmured, dipping his head to hers, pressing a light kiss against the corner of her mouth, "and I think both of those come to you naturally."

She couldn't help but smile at his flattery – particularly since she sensed he meant every word, that he wasn't a man for empty words. He didn't have to be. His wealth, his power, meant that he'd been able to dictate terms and still have women begging to fill his bed.

Not that Skye was in any position to complain, because she hadn't been celibate either. She had to admit she was being hypocritical in disliking the thought of women in Warren's life before her, but if what he'd said was true…

"Am I really the first woman to see your wings?" she asked shyly.

"Apart from a doctor when I was about fifteen, yes, and you're the first person to touch them in about ten years too."

"Oh," she couldn't _stop_ touching them, they felt wonderful, and he seemed very far from objecting, letting out soft little hums of pleasure as she stroked her fingers lightly across the top edge of one, feeling the thick muscle and tendon beneath the soft feathers.

"I didn't know they could feel that good," Warren mumbled, his eyes half-closed with ecstasy. "They didn't while I was growing oh God Skye you're going to have to stop."

"Are you sure?" she teased lightly.

"Yes, unless you want our first time to be in a field with your boss going to come looking for you any minute!"

"There would be worse places," Skye acknowledged, looking around the beautiful valley, "but I admit Coulson would be a bit of a mood-killer. He's kind of the only father I acknowledge."

"Ugh," Warren muttered as Skye reluctantly eased her hands out of his feathers. He felt the loss at once, mourned it. "I've made a fantastic first impression there, haven't I?"

"I'm sure he'd forgive a great deal if you told him you'd fund him after all."

"Oh, I'll fund him." He took her hand and led her up the hill towards where Skye and Coulson had left the car. "If he can find me a shirt before I have to head back."

Skye chuckled. "There's a go bag in the back of the car, there should be a bomber jacket of Hunter's in there, should fit you all right. How did you get here, anyway?"

"Flew," he shrugged, "carried my clothes and put them on when I got here. I wanted to make sure I wasn't followed – and that you couldn't follow me when I left."

"Paranoid much?" she asked, and then realised what a stupid question that was, to a man who spent his life living in the public eye while somehow managing to conceal that he had twenty-foot span white wings. "Never mind, that was a dumb thing to say."

They'd reached the car, and Coulson got out, looking from one to the other of them as Skye headed for the back and pulled out the go bag. She found a plain white T-shirt and the black nylon bomber jacket, both Hunter's, and handed them over. Warren pulled them on, easing the T-shirt over his wings with a grimace, and Skye went to help, realising this was a reason for his nice suits and button-down shirts.

Warren shivered again as her fingers brushed the feathers at the small of his back, and she couldn't help but wonder how he'd react when they made love. Because that was going to happen, she recognised, and sooner rather than later, as he turned to look at her with his blue eyes glittering with lust.

"I'll fund you," was what he said, though, turning to Coulson. "Whatever you need. All I ask is that you grant me free access to Skye – by her leave – and that you do everything within your power not to expose me. I'll make sure the money is untraceable."

Phil glanced at Skye, wondering what bargain she'd struck with Worthington, but she was only staring at him with a distinctly dazed look on her face. "The first part's up to Skye," he said, "but I can certainly promise to keep your secret."

"Then we have a deal." Zipping the bomber jacket, shifting his shoulders to make his wings comfortable, he held out his hand. Coulson shook it. "Any chance I could hitch a ride?"

"Of course."

He sat in the back seat, obviously more comfortable sitting sideways where his wings didn't have to press against the seat. Skye wondered how many tiny adjustments he had to make in his daily life that most people would just write off as the whims of an eccentric rich man. No doubt the women he bedded never even thought to question his sexual demands. She found her fists were clenched thinking about it, nails cutting into her palms, and when they dropped him off near a waiting limousine she gave Coulson a look that said _give me a minute_. Coulson switched off the engine and ostentatiously took out his phone to fiddle with.

Warren's chauffeur – a man so spectacularly well-paid he would never for a moment question anything Warren did – pushed the button to close the privacy screen as soon as he saw his boss get into the car with a beautiful woman in tow. Shaking his head to himself. _Where the hell did Worthington find them?_

Skye really didn't like the implication, nor the derisive glance the chauffeur gave her in the mirror before the screen closed. Warren didn't miss her expression, and winced.

"So," Skye started the instant the hum from the screen's motor stopped.

"No," Warren interrupted immediately. "We are not starting on my past habits now. Not again. They're _past_."

Embarrassed to be so easily read, Skye flushed and looked at her hands. And then she said in a very small voice, "Do you promise?" and he realised just how insecure she was feeling.

"Christ, who's betrayed you, who's let you down like this?" he asked in horror. Winced again as he saw a tear slide down her cheek, even though she was obviously trying valiantly to suppress it.

"Skye, look at me." He took her hands in his, holding them firmly, waiting until she met his eyes. "You. Are. My. _Soulmate_. You know my deepest, darkest secret and you haven't flinched from that. I won't betray you, I _can't_. I don't know you well enough yet to fall in love with you, but I trust that the universe paired us together for a reason, and that reason most definitely does not include me sleeping around on you. The moment you confirmed that it's your writing on my back, that part of my life ended. You're the only one for me now, I want you to remember that no matter what."

She let out a small gulping sound that wrenched at his heart, and he tightened his hold on her hands. "You're mine, Skye…" her eyes flicked up to his, wide with terror, and he smoothly said "and I am yours. Soulmates, if you can't trust in anything else, trust in that."

She hesitated for a long moment. "There's things I'll need to tell you," she admitted at last.

"Crazy stalker ex?"

"How could you possibly…"

"Your reaction the second I got possessive." His smile was wry and sad. "I've got very good at reading people. I've had to learn to make snap judgements on who I can trust and bet my life on them. It tends to make one very astute."

"I can see that," Skye murmured, staring at where he held onto her hands, his grip dry and firm, but she knew she could easily pull away if she wanted to. "I don't _want_ to talk to you about him," she burst out after a moment. "I – it feels like it would _contaminate_ everything."

"It's all right," he soothed quietly. "I'll need to know sooner rather than later so that I can take precautions to ensure both of our safety, but I can talk to Coulson about it if you'd prefer."

Skye nodded, feeling her throat close, feeling deeply ashamed of herself for being such a coward. _If only I'd had the guts to shoot Ward in the head as he deserved in San Juan…_

"Skye," Warren said softly, "look at me."

She drew her eyes up slowly to his blue ones, found him staring at her with an unexpectedly tender look on his face.

"It doesn't matter. We all make stupid mistakes. Mine has been taking release where I could find it; he's obviously yours."

With a strangled sound Skye practically launched herself across the backseat and into his arms; they closed around her comfortingly. She rested her head on his chest.

"I wish you could come with me now," Warren whispered, petting Skye's hair gently, "but we both know that can't happen. Will you come to me soon?"

"Soon as I can," she promised fervently. "Where?"

"My home's in the Hamptons. Very private and exclusive – my own private sea cliff where I can fly off," he grinned slightly as she leaned back to look at him. "There, if you can. I can be myself there. I'll let Coulson have the address. If not, well, I'll be at company headquarters in New York. I'll leave instructions for you to be brought to me if you turn up."

She nodded, pressing back to cling to him for another moment, breathing in his scent against his neck, warm and musky. And then she slipped from his arms, out of the car, leaving him with nothing but an impression of a small, slender lithe creature who left behind a lingering scent of apricots and a warm summer breeze.

**Next chapter – Skye comes to find Warren and things escalate fast.**

**This isn't going to be a daily update fic as I only have one more chapter written at the moment. Nor is it planned to be all that long. It's gonna get smutty, though…**


	3. That's Really Not Helping

**Chapter 3 – That's Really Not Helping**

It took nine days for her to come to him. The longest nine days of his life, but nine days in which Warren kept his part of the bargain, used untraceable accounts to siphon more money to Coulson than he'd know what to do with in five years, using his father's ill-gotten gains to do a little good in the world, he reasoned as he tapped the keys to send another thirty million dollars Coulson's way. _There, done_.

He stood, turned away from his desk and walked across to the floor-to-ceiling windows, stared out across the New York skyline. The_ A_ on the top of Stark's tower was just visible at the far left of his view.

The intercom program on his computer beeped discreetly. Sighing, he walked back over and tapped on the touch panel. "Yes?"

"Sir, you gave directions that if a woman named Skye arrived or called that you were to be notified immediately."

"Yes! Is she here?"

"In the lobby downstairs, sir…"

"Send her up immediately, the private elevator. No need to stop by your desk, Carl." He tapped the screen again to close the program, walked into his private bathroom, smoothed his hair, looked in the mirror. Scowled at his reflection. _I can't show her the real me, not here_. _Why am I even bothering to worry what I look like? _He was wearing a ten-thousand-dollar suit and whatever the hell had sired him had blessed him with the face of an angel. He couldn't look bad if he tried.

The discreet ping of the elevator drew him out, and he froze by his desk, uncertain. Should he go to her? Wait for her to come to him? The steel doors slid open and there she stood, even more beautiful than he remembered, looking utterly out of place in his office dressed in a denim jacket and gypsy blouse, a tan suede miniskirt and cowboy boots showing off long, slender legs he couldn't stop staring at.

"Oh my God."

Skye had never been in a place remotely like this. Not even Ian Quinn's swanky mansion in Malta. That had screamed _nouveau riche_, a gauche, gaudy display of ostentatious wealth, but this – this was old money. Despite the glass skyscraper, the modern accoutrements, the young owner of all this. She could see it in the Persian rugs, the antique desk, the art on the walls – _holy crap, is that a Monet?_

He could see the shock on her face as her surroundings overwhelmed her, and cursed inwardly. He'd never thought how it might affect her to see him in this environment he took so much for granted, and walked towards her quickly, choosing his words carefully. _Thank you for coming_ sounded like something he'd say to an employee, so instead he said what he was really thinking.

"Thank God you came, Skye, I was beginning to think you never would."

"I told you I would as soon as I could," she was diverted from the probably priceless art on the walls by Warren as he walked towards her. Good God, he really was gorgeous, all icy blond beauty – and smiling, a warm, welcoming smile. He stopped just short of her and held out his hands, leaving the last step to her. She took it without even thinking about it, moving straight into his arms, letting out a soft sigh of relief as they closed around her and he bent his head, seeking her lips. She put her hands on his chest, feeling the smooth muscle there beneath his expensive silk shirt, a little nervous of touching his back.

They were both quickly lost in the kiss, Warren's tongue slipping past Skye's parted lips to gently tease her top lip, explore her mouth with light, flicking caresses that made her shiver against him and fist her hands in his shirt. One of his strong, long-fingered hands slipped down to cup her ass and pull her even closer against him, and Skye couldn't help the little needy moan she let out as their bodies aligned. It was echoed by a low, hungry sound from Warren moments later.

"Skye," he gasped, lifting his head, trying to move back from her. "I'm sorry – I don't want to push you…"

"I'd like to be pushed by you quite a lot thanks, preferably up against a wall or down on that big desk of yours," Skye panted, her fingers gripping so tightly in his shirt he'd have to rip it to get away from her.

The pupils of his eyes dilated until there was only the thinnest ring of blue as he stared down at her. "That's really not helping."

"Why? Is someone going to walk in?"

"Not if they want to keep working for me." Warren hesitated, looking down at her, warring with himself. And then Skye made his mind up for him by undoing a couple of buttons on his shirt and sliding her hand inside, caressing his chest. "Wait." He grabbed her hands. "You really want this?"

"Yes." She wasn't going to second-guess herself. She'd thought of nothing but Warren since they'd met, since he'd kissed her, asked her to come to him when _she_ was ready.

"Okay. Let me make sure we won't be interrupted." He pulled away from her, walked around his desk, tapped his computer screen. "Carl, hold all calls, cancel my meetings for this afternoon and tomorrow, and lock down the elevator. I'll be taking the chopper home shortly and I don't want to be disturbed until then."

"Yes, Mr Worthington," his secretary responded obediently, but Warren heard the sly amusement in his voice and knew the man was making assumptions about just who and what Skye was. Assumptions Warren would be correcting very soon, because no one would be disrespectful to his soulmate if he had anything to say about it. Not _just_ yet, though.

Skye had slipped up behind him, and even as he tapped the screen to shut off the intercom her hand slid up between his shirt and jacket and touched his back.

"_Uhn_." Even through the cloth, her touch on his wings was electrifying. Warren shrugged his jacket off hastily, dragged off his shirt and tie, knowing his wings would be shredding them in short order if he wasn't quick.

"Oh," Skye stared in astonishment at the harness of supple brown leather that criss-crossed his chest, holding his wings down. "Do you wear that all the time?"

"Most of it," Warren admitted. "It helps keep my wings still."

She looked distressed at the thought of him having to bind himself this way, reached for the buckle at his left hip. He sighed with relief as the harness loosened and he was able to pull it off.

Skye glanced at the windows. "They _are_ one-way?"

"Definitely." Unfettered at last, Warren couldn't help but stretch his wings, sighing with relief.

"So beautiful," Skye whispered, reaching up to caress the arch of his left wing. Instinctively, Warren bent it, sighing with pleasure as her fingers stroked down over the long flight feathers. "Are they heavy?"

He shook his head. "I'm stronger than a normal human. I don't feel the weight." A rueful smile kicked the corner of his mouth. "I never let myself get caught on a set of scales, though. And careful you don't get yourself caught under one. You might get smothered."

She gave him a sceptical look.

"Here," he caught her hands. "Put them here, just under the arch of the wing, like you're going to lift it. I'll relax my back muscles so you take the weight."

"Fuck!"

The wing was _really_ heavy. Skye couldn't even take the weight, buckling almost instantly until he lifted it from her hands, a strong arm going around her waist to hold her up.

"Told you."

"How can you possibly – you're not even _remotely_ human, are you?" She looked up into his eyes, regretted the words instantly as she saw the sadness creep into them. "Warren, I'm sorry, I didn't mean that…"

"Half human." He said it quietly. "The other half is unknown. Nothing like it has ever been seen in any lab on Earth so far as we know. I've been negotiating with Stark to get access to Thor, perhaps ask him about Asgard, but Stark doesn't know what I am – I'm hoping perhaps Coulson with his S.H.I.E.L.D. connections could help…"

"The Avengers don't know Coulson's alive," Skye said, "and he wants to keep it that way." She bit on her lip thoughtfully. "But May knows Maria Hill, and she works for Stark, with the Avengers. I could ask?"

"Thank you. I doubt it truly matters." He shrugged, his wings sweeping up and back with the movement. "Just my own curiosity."

She leaned into him, her arms slipping round his lean waist, a little surprised when he shuddered. "Warren?"

"Skye," he muttered, his teeth sinking hard into his lower lip. "I – this is going to sound weird."

"What?"

His hands came up, toyed with the top button of her blouse before slipping it free when she made no objection. "I don't know what I really like. I thought…" he shut his eyes and let out a frustrated sigh. "I want to do everything with you I've never been able to with anyone else," he confessed finally, opening his eyes again. "Make love in the nude. Let you touch me, look at me. But most of all…"

"Tell me," she encouraged softly when he didn't seem to be able to find the words. It was unfair, Skye found herself thinking, that Warren had never been able to have what he really wanted. She wanted to give him that, whatever it was. She felt as though he was offering up a very private piece of himself, something that would only ever be hers, and it made her feel very warm inside.

"I want you to touch my wings. That place between them, where your words are, when you touched me there the other day…"

_Oh_. She remembered his reaction, very distinctly. "You really liked that, didn't you?"

He closed his eyes again, and she realised he was ashamed, that he didn't want to look at her, for her to see his shame. "I haven't been able to stop thinking about it," he confessed thickly.

She smiled, pressed her lips to his leanly muscled chest. "Turn around."

His breath hitched.

"Turn _around_, Warren."

"This – feels like I'm not being fair to you." He turned slowly, sweeping his left wing up and over. It skimmed lightly over her head, draped back down when he lowered it, but he didn't fold them, just stood with them slightly arched, the tips just brushing the floor.

"You can make it up to me later." His back really was strange: she could definitely see muscles beneath the skin that were not part of any normal human anatomy. Jemma was going to be _fascinated_. She'd already begged Skye for details that she had no way to provide.

The wings sprouted out of what should be his shoulder blades, huge muscles and tendons covered in white down at their base, and that soft white down basically covered his back from mid-ribs to just below the top of his shoulders, but thinly. Between his shoulder blades it was barely there at all, and that was where her words were etched into his skin.

"You didn't have the wings when the words came," Skye murmured.

"I was only two. Woke my mom up crying in the night."

Skye suddenly realised that he must know her actual birth date, then… but that could wait. It wasn't as important right now as reassuring Warren that what he wanted wasn't weird, wasn't wrong. And she'd be lying to herself if she tried to make herself believe that she _didn't_ want to touch him there, see him fall apart as he'd begun to do at her brief caress the other day.

Because not only did she have an intense desire to see her soulmate in ecstasy – she also really, _really_ liked the way his feathers felt. The urge to feel them all over her body was too strong, and she slipped off her jacket and put it on one of the office chairs in front of the desk.

Warren looked over his shoulder at her, eyes widening as she started to unbutton her blouse.

"Oh hell no, I'm not going to miss this…" he started to turn again, but she put a hand at the small of his back.

"You can look as much as you want… _later_."

"No fair!" he craned his neck to see, glad that his head turned a bit further than a normal human's would, that his peripheral vision was better too, as he watched Skye strip down to some very skimpy, very pretty lacy underwear. It was light blue, one of his favourite colours – oh _hot damn_ but his soulmate was gorgeous. "You're beautiful," he said hoarsely, "_so_ beautiful."

"Sshh," she moved up to his back, pressing against him lightly. "Just turning the tables on you, Warren, all those poor girls you wouldn't let look at that gorgeous face of yours while you screwed them…"

She pressed a soft kiss between his shoulder blades, right over the soulmark, and then her hands came up to his back, pressing lightly against the very base of his wings, her fingers curving around the huge tendons, sinking into the soft down.

Warren's legs wouldn't hold him. He went to his knees, hands grasping the edge of his desk to support himself from falling entirely, his wings lowering and spreading in a gesture of submission as he exposed as much of his back as he could to Skye's touch. "Please," he rasped out. "Oh God, _please_."

He wasn't even sure exactly what he was begging for. Just that he didn't think he could bear it if she stopped. Skye knelt behind him, her hands gently pulling him back, urging him to sit back on his haunches, and then she pressed her whole upper body against his back, her lace-covered breasts rubbing against the base of his wings.

Warren cried out wordlessly as Skye pressed soft kisses across his shoulders, his eyes closing, head falling forward. Her slender hands slid around his waist, deftly worked his belt and unzipped his fly.

He seemed like he was so close to the edge. Skye had to know. His cock sprang free into her hand, thick and achingly hard, pre-cum leaking against her seeking fingertips. She cupped her palm over his tip, swirled her fingers under the rim.

"_Skye_." A cracking noise made her glance over his shoulder, startled, and she realised his white-knuckled grip on the edge of the desk was actually causing the wood to splinter.

"Warren! Let go, you're going to break it." She slid her free hand down his arm, pressed on his elbow – but she didn't take her hand off his cock, didn't cease rubbing herself against his back.

He groaned and somehow managed to drag his hands off the desk, lowering them to his thighs, pressing his fingers into the taut muscle there instead.

Skye should have been unnerved by the unconscious display of strength, fearful that he would accidentally damage her once she let him touch her. But somehow she knew he wouldn't, knew that he would always leash his power where she was concerned.

"Please," Warren groaned, near-mindless with need. "Skye. _Please_. Want you, want you so much…"

She was bubbling between her legs, his utter submission to her touch arousing in a way she'd never expected – as was the soft touch of his feathers on her skin. She pulled back and let go – an action which elicited a cry of loss from him – but only long enough to strip off her underwear and grab a condom from her jacket pocket. Jemma had shoved a whole strip of them in there before she left, with a stern look and an admonition to be careful.

Skye was sliding onto his lap, straddling his thighs, her hands sliding over his straining cock again – _oh_, she was rolling a condom down onto him. Warren's hands came up to caress her breasts as she focussed on her task.

"Beautiful," he murmured, thumbing her peaked nipples lightly. "So beautiful."

"Could say the same about you." She finished rolling the condom on and leaned in to kiss him; straddling his lap like this they were about the same height. His hands dropped to her ass and he lifted her against him eagerly, sliding one hand between her thighs.

"So wet," he mumbled against her throat. "Can't believe you want this – even knowing what I am…"

"Shut up and fuck me, Warren," she tugged at his wrist, pulling his hand out of the way, reaching to move his cock into position, rubbing herself deliberately along the length of it a time or two, letting out a small moan of her own.

He let out a low sound of satisfaction as she slid slowly down on him, but without her hands on his back it felt more familiar, more controllable. He opened his eyes slowly and focussed on Skye, on the way her head rolled back as he sank deep into her body, her eyes closing, her soft lips parting. She braced her hands on his upper arms but didn't try to push up, letting him control the depth, the pace, of their joining.

"Fuckin' beautiful," he muttered, staring in awe. His soulmate. This was _his soulmate_, the other half of himself, right here in his lap, impaled on his throbbing erection, and from the sounds she was making, loving it just as much as he was. He put his hands under her ass, cupping her buttocks, careful not to grip, and began to lift and lower her, setting up a slow, teasing rhythm.

_Ooohh_. Oh _wow_, Warren knew his way around a woman's body very well indeed, his hands tilting Skye's hips at exactly the right angle. "Oh fuck yeah!" she gasped as he suddenly slammed her down fast, the base of his cock rubbing against her clitoris even as his tip glided over her G-spot. He nibbled at her throat, licking and sucking the sensitive spot just below her ear, and Skye realised, to her amazement, that she was really close to orgasm_. It normally took a whole lot longer than this…_

He lifted her and slammed her down again, adding a jerk of his hips this time, and she let out a strangled, wordless moan. Her hands slipped from his surging biceps, up over his shoulders – and down between his wings.

Warren lost his mind completely at the absolutely electric touch of Skye's hands in that impossibly sensitive spot. His wings snapped out to the sides, completely out of his conscious control, one of them bowling over a chair with such force it smashed against the wall.

A _sound_ came from his throat that could never have been made by human vocal chords, a sort of trilling shriek of divine ecstasy. It reverberated through Skye and she was helpless against the power of it, arching against Warren as an orgasm tore through her, violent in its intensity.

He was blind and deaf, all senses lost save for touch, that feeling of Skye's tight, wet tunnel wrapped around him even as the pressure of her fingers on his back tore another one of those unearthly shrieks from him as he came, surging and spurting hotly, buried to the hilt inside his soulmate's welcoming body.

Skye had been half-way through an extremely pleasurable climax when his second scream had triggered _another_ one. Utterly stunned, she could only cling weakly to his shoulders and try to ride out the waves of near-excruciating pleasure.

"Uhn," she managed to choke out a few minutes later, becoming slowly aware that he was easing gently out of her, lowering her gently to lie on the plush Persian carpet. "What _was_ that?"

"Hm?" on his knees beside Skye, Warren looked at her. "I thought it was pretty amazing sex, didn't you?"

"Not that. That _sound_ you made."

A flush coloured his high cheekbones. "Yes, I think I made quite a lot of noise, actually, but the office is soundproof. Don't worry."

"No, I…" she watched him walk away to what was obviously a private bathroom. He'd never even managed to take his pants fully off, hitched them up over lean hips now, his wings folding elegantly behind him to go through the door.

**Notes on Angel's origins: Warren's origins are even more obscure than many of the other X-Men, which is saying something, but in some versions of comic canon it's said that he may be a descendant or recreation of an ancient winged race known as the Cheyarafim. It's strongly implied if not outright stated that they were the 'angels' of the bible, and indeed some of the names of Cheyarafim listed include Raphael, Michael, Gabriel etc.**

**In my headcanon for this story, he's a half-breed, the result of a Cheyarafim's lust for a mortal woman (his mother) and really has no idea of what his true abilities are due to no one being around to teach him. He exists in the MCU but the X-Men don't, so he has nowhere to turn and no allies, no-one who knows what he is. Until Skye.**


	4. I'm Not Sure What I Believe

**Chapter Four – I'm Not Sure What I Believe In**

Skye was pulling on her blouse when he returned, and Warren sighed and collected his clothes from where he'd flung them aside, tugging his harness on over his wings and pulling the buckle tight. Skye winced, watching him, and he gave her a tight little smile.

"I'm used to it, babe."

"It just seems so wrong."

He shrugged into his shirt and buttoned it, reached for his jacket. Watched her as she put her boots back on.

"Will you come home with me? My helicopter's on the roof, we can fly straight there. Are you expected back, or…"

"I have four days' leave," she smiled up at him as he came over to her. "I promised to leave my phone on in case of emergency, but otherwise – I'm all yours."

"I like the sound of that," he said on a low exhale of breath. Put his hand to her cheek and tilted her face up for a slow kiss. "I like the sound of that very much. Let's go, then."

She collected her satchel and followed him up a flight of stairs to the roof, where, as promised, a helicopter sat ready. Warren guided her into the passenger seat, gave her a headset and showed her how to buckle the straps securely – Skye had never been in a helicopter before, and watched interestedly as he swiftly ran through pre-flight checks and spoke to air traffic control, filing a flight plan with the ease and confidence of what was obviously regular practice.

Finally he glanced across at her. "Ready?"

"Sure," she shrugged, as much as she could in the tight harness. He wasn't wearing one, she noticed: it would probably be unbearably uncomfortable over his wings, to have him pinned against the seat as she was.

It was less than an hour's flying time, in the speedy little chopper, to Warren's very spectacular estate out past Montauk. Skye saw, as they approached from the air, what he meant about privacy. The house was quite close to the sea cliffs and the angle of the cliffs meant he wouldn't be overlooked until he was well out to sea. She didn't even like to think about what the real estate would be worth. A shack around here would probably be ten million dollars, and this magnificent mansion was very far from being a shack.

Skye blew out her breath in a low whistle as Warren landed on a helipad in front of a small hangar, staring at the English-style country house in front of them. It looked straight out of a period costume drama, all grey stone and lead-lighted windows.

"Wow."

"My grandfather built the place." He helped her escape the harness, handed her down from the helicopter. A mechanic had come out of the hangar and nodded respectfully to Warren; Warren nodded back cheerfully before leading Skye towards the house.

"You have staff here?" Skye murmured, turning to look at the mechanic.

"Yes." Warren's lips curved. "It may seem rather deceptive, but I have found that a certain segment of the population can, in fact, be trusted with my secret."

"Huh?" Skye said a bit densely. "Who on earth could you trust?"

"Devout Christians."

She tripped over her feet. He caught her elbow to steady her.

"But – you're not an angel!" Skye hissed, checking back over her shoulder that they were out of earshot. "Are you?"

"Not as far as I know. Whatever sired me, might have been. I don't precisely lie about it, Skye, but I allow them to believe that I'm here on a very, _very_ secret, very important mission, and they must absolutely not discuss it with anyone, ever, not their priest, not _anyone_. There's only about a dozen people who know. They're mostly related to each other. They all live here, on the property though not in the main house, and they are all _extremely_ protective of me and my privacy."

"Have you ever brought a woman here before?" Skye had to ask.

"No. I have told them all that you're my soulmate, though. And implied that you're other than human…"

"Which is true…"

"Quite. So don't be surprised if they're extremely respectful."

She bit her lip. "They don't – _worship_ you?" because that would bother her _a lot_, if he permitted that.

"Oh hell no, I wouldn't stand for that! I tell them that the only one worthy of worship is God Himself, I serve as they all do."

"Are you, um, religious?"

He smiled tightly as they neared the house. "I'm not sure _what_ I believe in, to be honest."

"Well, that makes two of us."

Warren's smile turned more genuine, and he clasped her hand lightly, smiling down at her as he opened a door to let them into the house. "Well. Here it is, my not-very-humble abode."

"Will anyone be in the house?" Skye asked quietly as he led her along a corridor.

"No. Eleanor will have left food in the kitchen for us, though. I sent a message before we left that I wanted privacy once I arrived." He looked down at her with a slow smile. "I was hoping that I would see you soon."

That smile _did things_ to Skye's insides, making her stomach tighten in a slow twist of desire. Warren never looked away from her eyes, his own clear crystal blue darkening as he stared down at her.

"Are you hungry?" his voice was low and rasping.

She was about to deny it, to beg him to take her straight to his bed, when her stomach rumbled. Pink-cheeked, Skye looked away from that blazing blue stare. "I should probably eat. I guess I'm going to need the energy." She peeked back at him, saw him lick his lips convulsively. "Warren, if you don't stop looking at me like that, we're not even going to make it to the kitchen."

"You're the one who said you'd need the energy. Makes me think about ways I could help you burn it off." His voice was low and dark.

"You're _really_ not an angel, are you?"

That made him chuckle, but he took her hand in his and led her along the hallway and into a magnificent kitchen. She'd half expected a stainless steel caterer's dream, but no, although beautifully appointed, it was homey, with a huge red oil-fired range and acres of timber cabinetry with sand-coloured granite benchtops. There was a scrubbed pine table with six chairs at it, and he gestured to her to take a seat as he pulled open a tall timber door to reveal a concealed fridge cabinet.

"What would you like to eat? There's soup here I could heat up…"

"Sounds good," Skye shrugged, watched him as he took off his jacket and draped it over the back of a chair before competently assembling a light meal for them, soup heating on the range while he made fresh sandwiches on what Skye was sure was home-baked bread.

"I didn't think billionaires cooked for themselves," Skye murmured as he set a plate in front of her. "I'm sure Tony Stark doesn't even know where his kitchen is."

Warren grinned. "From what I know of him, you're probably right."

"You've never met him?"

"No," Warren slid the bowls of soup onto the table too, seated himself beside her. "It's not like there's a New York Billionaires Club," he told her sceptical glance. "Actually, there might be – but I wouldn't want to be part of it, and I can't imagine Stark would either. Plus he's fifteen years older than me, and I only actually inherited all this crap when my father died two years ago. Stark's been kinda busy doing the Iron Man/Avenger thing since then, and before that he probably considered me just some trust fund brat."

"True," Skye murmured. She tasted the soup and failed completely to suppress the moan of ecstasy. "Oh _wow_ this is good. I hope you pay your cook well."

"Very well indeed." The expression on her face as she lifted the spoon to her mouth again made him lick his lips and look away. He needed to let her eat. Needed to eat himself: his body burned a huge amount of fuel. _Focus, Warren. Focus_.

Except then Skye let out another one of those ecstatic noises and his spoon clattered into his bowl.

"You need to stop doing that."

"Doing what?" Skye froze. _Oh God, I'm probably slurping my soup in some horrible, uncouth, common way_…

"Making noises like that. Because otherwise I'm gonna strip you off, put you down on this table and have _you_ for dessert."

"Oh." His blue eyes were gleaming darkly again. "Um." Skye looked down at her almost-empty bowl. "Well, you know – I think I've probably had enough."

The sound he made was distinctly a growl. "Was that an invitation, Skye?"

"Did I not make it clear enough?" She grinned wickedly up at him as he leant closer. "I'd very much like it if you laid me down on this table and had me for dessert," she whispered just before his mouth came down to claim hers again.


	5. I'll Never Let Anyone Hurt You

**Chapter 5 – I'll Never Let Anyone Hurt You**

Warren pulled her out of her chair and into his lap easily. Skye moaned against his mouth, swinging her leg over to straddle his lean thighs, her fingers scrabbling at the buttons of his shirt. She wanted to see him again, touch his skin – and most of all she wanted to see him _free_, his wings unfettered. He leaned back to let her unfasten the harness around his chest, shrugged it and his shirt off together, his wings unfolding gracefully out to the sides.

"Mm," Skye traced her fingers down his chest. He was defined, but not ridiculously so, not huge muscles. He didn't need them, she supposed, with the inhuman strength she already knew he possessed, considering the weight of his wings. His long-fingered hands slid around her waist and up inside the back of her blouse – and he expertly unfastened her bra.

"Oh!" Skye twitched slightly, and then Warren was standing, moving one arm from her back to sweep their finished dishes to one side before setting her bottom on the edge of the table, his hands moving up to her waist to pull up her blouse and take it off over her head.

"You are so very, very beautiful," he murmured softly, cupping her breasts lightly before pulling away the unfastened bra. "I feel very lucky."

"You are definitely getting lucky," Skye quipped, and then he leant in, pushing her back to lean on her hands, and licked lightly at her nipple, teasing it to a pouting point with his tongue before switching his attentions to the other breast.

Skye's fingers slid into Warren's hair as his tongue teased lightly over her breast. She moaned his name softly, and he smiled against her skin.

"Would you mind if I tried something?"

"Unh," was about the only sound Skye could get to come out as he lifted his head. "Whatever, yeah…" and then she gasped in shock as he curved one wing around and stroked the tip of it up her back. "Oh. My. God."

His feathers felt _wonderful_ against her skin, a silken glide. And he seemed to have almost fingertip control with the tip of his wing, as he caressed it down over her shoulder and flicked over her breasts. Skye couldn't help but start to pant.

"Feels good?" Warren asked softly, caressing Skye's spine again. He'd learnt long ago how dexterous he could be with his wings, it was almost like having another pair of (really long) arms, though without a thumb he couldn't grip with them.

"Urrhh," Skye lost all ability to speak coherently. Warren chuckled and pressed his hands against her shoulders lightly, pushing her to lie down. She did without hesitation, and he caressed her breasts again with his wing while his hands busied themselves removing the rest of her clothes.

The drag and glide of Warren's warm, silken feathers over her skin had Skye shuddering, panting out his name as long fingers stroked up her inner thighs. And then she heard the chair grate on the floor, though when she opened her eyes she couldn't see him, could only see the white of his wing. Light kisses up her thigh told her that he'd seated himself between her legs, intended to feast as he'd suggested.

Skye's back arched as his tongue swiped lightly, a direct hit on her clit. She panted his name again and Warren grinned, sliding his hands under her buttocks and pulling her towards him, hooking his elbows under her knees and pressing his face firmly against her, pushing his tongue as deep into her as he could get, his teeth and upper lip working over her clit.

This wasn't something he'd had much opportunity to do. Giving oral didn't fit with the sexually-dominant-asshole persona he'd carefully crafted to keep women at a safe distance. But damn, he was really enjoying it, savouring the salty-musk taste of Skye in his mouth as he lapped and suckled enthusiastically, loving the sounds she was making as he stroked her breasts with his wingtip.

"Gonna come," Skye wheezed, her thighs trembling, "oh God, Warren, please, so close, just _there_…"

"Mm?" he kept lapping, slurping up the juices leaking into his mouth, grinning against her as she suddenly convulsed, low, throaty moans escaping her. Her nails scraped on the wooden table and he felt the sudden vibration in the timber, though it was there and gone so quickly he thought for a moment he'd imagined it.

Moving his wing up and back, Warren sat up, looking at Skye's face. She looked almost vulnerable spread out there on the table, so he gently drew her back into his lap again, holding her face against his throat, wrapping his wings and arms around her to hold her tenderly. She sighed against his neck.

"You okay, beautiful?" he murmured softly into her hair, stroking his hand gently over the long silken strands.

"Mm," she sighed contentedly, snuggling closer to him. "So good." One arm curled around his back, stroking lightly at the small of his back before working slowly up, stroking just under the base of his wings. Warren couldn't help a pleasurable shudder. "What about you, hmm?" Skye whispered, kissing his neck, wiggling her bottom in his lap. "What do you need, Warren?"

"I need to take you to bed," he said thickly, and then he was on his feet, lifting her easily.

"Uh, my clothes," Skye yelped as he carried her towards the door.

"Nobody will come in before morning," Warren said, "don't worry about it, I'll come get them before that."

"Please don't forget, I couldn't look any of your staff in the eye if they found my clothes strewn all over the kitchen like that," Skye admitted.

He chuckled quietly. "I promise." He was carrying her as though she weighed nothing – which, considering his superhuman strength, she probably did feel like she weighed nothing to him, Skye realised, as he carried her up a curved timber staircase and in through a set of open double doors.

"Holy smokes." She gazed around, wide-eyed. It was obviously his bedroom, but she'd never in her life seen a bed that big. It had to be specially made, as did the sheets on it – which, she realised as he gently laid her down, were _extremely_ high-thread-count cotton. Facing the bed was an entire wall made of glass, looking out over the cliffs to the ocean. Early in the evening, the sky was a deep, cloudless blue. She sat up on the bed, hugging her knees, and stared at the view. "Wow. I could just stay here and look at that view all day."

"Mm," Warren agreed, and she glanced up to see his eyes very firmly fixed on her, not the windows, as he toed off his shoes and unfastened his belt. "Very good view. Uh-huh."

Skye laughed as he finished stripping off his clothes and flopped onto the bed beside her. "I was talking about the ocean! Although," she stared appreciatively at him, taking in his blond beauty, the magnificent white wings spreading out behind him over the massive expanse of the bed as he rolled over, "you're very pretty too."

"_Pretty_?" he made a face at her.

"Beautiful, then."

"That's not much better!"

"There's no other word for it, Warren! I don't think English has words to describe angels that do not include the word _beauty_."

"Not an angel, for the hundred and sixty millionth time," he sighed, folding his hands behind his head, uncaring of his flagrant nudity.

"I think," Skye said quietly, reaching out to stroke the feathers on the wing closest to her, "that you're the closest thing anyone on Earth is ever going to see."

He had no answer to that. Only watched her silently as she ran her fingers slowly through the long flight feathers on the lower edge of the wing, marvelling at their incredible silkiness.

"My father said he wished I'd got wings," Skye said, her voice low.

Warren's eyes widened slowly. "Ah?" he made it a question.

She sighed, closing her eyes. And then she curled into his side, laying her head on his chest, and started at the very beginning. At the murder of her mother, her non-aging, Inhuman mother, at the hands of a Nazi scientist, and the obsessed, insane monster that her father had turned himself into in his frightening quest for vengeance.

Warren just listened, his arms wrapped around Skye. After a while, as the sky began to fade to darkness, the room grew cool, and he rolled slightly to his side and folded a wing over her too. She talked until her throat was hoarse, shed tears against his chest, but never once did she hold anything back.

His arms tightened around her when she talked about Ward, about how he'd kidnapped her and taken her to her father against her will.

"He took you to a mass murderer?"

"In a HYDRA-held stronghold. Which was then taken over by the man who killed my mother, who wanted to experiment on me, too." Skye hid her face against his chest. "I only wish I'd had the courage to shoot him in the head. He's still _out_ there, somewhere, doing God only knows what, Warren. I can't – sometimes I wake up at night and think he's there, looking at me. Telling me that he knows what's best for me, that I have to go somewhere with him or he'll kill my friends, that he's doing horrible things to people because he _loves_ me…"

A low snarl rumbled in his chest as she began to sob again, and he rocked her against him gently, stroking her hair until she quieted.

"I won't let him hurt you," he vowed softly. "I'll never let anyone hurt you, Skye. We'll find them and we'll stop them, I promise you. Ward, and your father. Nobody's going to use you, not ever again. Not on my watch."

She clung to him tightly, and he stroked her hair and back, making soothing noises until finally her breathing slowed and she fell asleep in his arms.

**Note: I am not planning to delve into a major villains-and-adventures plot with this one. We're not going to see a Warren confrontation with any of the 'bad guys' or at least, I'm not planning on it. I just want to make his opinion on the matter clear, as well as his dedication, so that Skye trusts him and falls in love with him all the sooner.**


	6. Tell Me What You Want

**Chapter Six – Tell Me What You Want**

Skye woke feeling suddenly chilled. There was a blanket, incredibly thick and soft, tucked around her, but she had a sense of loss – and then she remembered where she was, realising at the same time that Warren was no longer in the bed with her.

It was the middle of the night, a crescent moon outside the magnificent wall of glass shining down on the roiling, black ocean. Tucking the blanket around her, Skye stood and walked over to look, irresistibly drawn by the sight. And then a pair of white wings ghosted past and she put a hand on the glass, staring in amazement as she saw Warren truly fly for the first time.

He was agile and swift through the air. Skye didn't know enough about birds to compare, but if she had, she would have thought he flew like a hunting hawk, a merlin or kestrel, fast and lethal. He must have caught a glimpse of her standing at the window during one of his swoops, because he turned suddenly and flew back towards the house, and a moment later was outside the glass, wings beating slowly to hover there. He pointed to one side, and Skye followed the movement, saw a door at the end of the bedroom.

It turned out to lead into another room, this one with a balcony through double French doors, and Warren was waiting for her there, an invigorated grin on his face. He was wearing pants, tight black tactical ones, but his feet were bare, his skin cool as she moved into his arms.

"Hey, beautiful. Did you sleep well?"

"Mm hmm. What time is it?"

"Early morning – dawn in an hour or so. I woke up and you looked so peaceful, I didn't want to disturb you so I thought I'd come out and fly." His hands traced slow circles on her upper back. "If I'd stayed there with you, I wouldn't have been able to resist waking you up, and I thought you needed the rest."

Skye grinned up at him. "Well, it would all depend on _how_ you woke me up."

That made him laugh, and with a swift scoop of his arms he lifted her up again. "I could demonstrate, if you like?"

Skye pressed soft kisses against his neck as he carried her back to the bed. One of her arms slid up his back and she deliberately ran her fingers through the fine down in between his wings.

Warren's confident stride stuttered and he failed to suppress a moan. Skye smirked and did it again, curving her fingertips to scratch lightly.

"Skye," his voice shook, "I need – you need to stop doing – oh my God, please don't stop, please do that again."

Skye chuckled softly and wriggled, encouraging him to put her on her feet. They hadn't quite got to the bed, so she took his hand and pulled him towards it.

"Take those pants off, Warren. And then you're going to tell me what you _really_ want to do in bed."

He was all fingers and thumbs easing his pants off – it had to be uncomfortable in tight tactical pants when that aroused, Skye mused, walking around him and pressing light kisses on his skin before moving back behind him and running her hands along the arch of his wings.

"Skye," he said thickly. "_Fuck_."

"We'll get to that," she chuckled as he finally managed to kick his pants off. "No, you don't," as he started to turn around, she wrapped her arms around his waist from behind. "Tell me what you want, Warren. You told me that you've never been able to have what you wanted in bed. So tell me what that is. I want to give you that."

He moaned as he felt her breasts pressing into his back. "I want," he said, had to clear his throat and try again when the words came out choked, "I want you on top of me. Cowgirl style. My hands on those pretty breasts."

"It won't bother you, to lie down on your wings?" Somehow, that surprised Skye.

"No. They'll be mostly free anyway." He tipped his head back and moaned again as she slid one hand downwards, took his shaft in her hand for an exploratory pump. "Ohhh, _Skye_." His voice was very low and deep.

"All right, we'll do that in a minute," she murmured, "but there's something _I_ want to do first." Moving around him, she dropped to her knees – thankful for the plush carpet – and ran her hands gently up the outside of his thighs, staring up at him. In the moonlit room, his wings arched behind him, he looked unearthly. But his arousal, standing proud, was very much a man's, and Skye smiled as she curled one hand around the base of his cock and parted her lips to suck the tip into her mouth.

He was leaking pre-cum, salty-sweet on her tongue, and she licked it up, tracing her tongue around the head, listening to his strangled groans as she investigated what he liked.

Warren had to lock his knees to keep from collapsing as Skye's hot mouth explored his aching cock, her slender fingers caressing his swollen balls lightly. And then the hand she'd wrapped around the base tightened and she sucked him right into her mouth, taking him down deep until her lips met her hand and he was brushing the back of her throat.

Warren's knees did buckle as she _hummed_, and Skye pulled off, chuckling. "Note to self; let you sit or lie down before I do that."

"Yes," he choked, backing to the bed and collapsing down on it, spreading his wings behind him. Skye followed, kneeling astride his legs, bending her head to kiss down his stomach, smiling to herself as he cried out her name. She was already bubbling between her thighs.

"Condoms?" she pulled off from sucking on him long enough to ask. He waved vaguely at the nightstand, and she grinned and crawled across the huge bed to grab some before coming back and straddling his thighs to roll one on.

"You – won't be ready," Warren slurred as she shifted her hips over him.

"You are so very, very wrong about that," grinning, Skye wrapped a hand around his sheathed cock, guided herself down onto the tip. "Mm," she moaned, her head falling back as she slid slowly, torturously, down his thick, straining length.

Warren was hissing profanities between his teeth long before he was fully sheathed inside her, his hands shaking as they grasped her hips, though he was still careful not to use his full strength against her.

"So good," he groaned. "Ah, hell, Skye, so _fucking_ good!"

She could barely breathe, barely think, as he let go of her hips and reached up to caress her breasts, rolling her nipples between finger and thumb. Bending one knee to plant his heel on the bed, he encouraged her to lean back against his thigh, started a gentle rocking of his hips that made Skye's eyes roll back in her head.

"Uhn," she dropped a hand behind her to caress his balls, slipped the other one in between them to rub her swollen, pulsing clit. Warren's eyes fastened on what she was doing and he made a choked sound, his hips suddenly rocking faster.

"That's it," he gritted out, "bring yourself off, Skye, I want to see you come. Want to feel you, oh God, I'm gonna come so fucking hard in a minute, please, Skye, need you to let go for me…" he squeezed her nipples a little harder, and, unbearably turned on by the myriad of erotic sensations assailing her, Skye climaxed, her body clenching hard around him, wetness soaking her fingers and his hard, flat belly.

"Yes," Warren gasped out, and then in an amazing display of strength he grasped her hips in his hands and used his wings to push himself up easily, flipping them both over until he had Skye positioned beneath him, "fucking _perfect_, my beautiful, gorgeous girl – gonna pound you into this mattress until you're _screaming_ my name, that all right, beautiful?"

"Yes, _unh_, yes, yes!" she sobbed it, barely coherent, the last tremors of the orgasm still rippling through her as he braced both arms beside her head and started to move, withdrawing almost completely before slamming back in deep.

Blue eyes locked with hers, his blond hair and white wings almost glowing in the moonlight still streaming in through the glass wall behind him, he looked so unearthly beautiful the only thing that kept Skye from being convinced he really was an angel was the stream of utter filth coming from his mouth. Warren, it appeared, liked to talk dirty. Not that she minded. Quite the opposite.

He paused in his thrusts long enough to slip an arm under her knee, lift it to his side, changing the angle of his attack. "Just there, gorgeous, that the spot?" as Skye began to tremor and moan. "That's it, oh God yeah, that's it baby, squeeze me tight," as she twined her other leg around his, dug her heel into the back of his thigh, trying to urge him on.

"Harder," she whined in her throat. "Faster, please, Warren, please, need it…"

"I got you, you love this, don't you? Love feeling my cock deep in you, filling you up."

She sobbed out his name again as he buried himself to the hilt and added a little twist of his hips at the last instant.

"So close. Warren, so close!"

"_Now_," he demanded fiercely, and Skye could do nothing but obey, her body bowing as she came _hard_, hearing his low curse as she clamped tightly down on him, milking hot jets of semen from his cock as he spurted deep inside her.

Warren braced himself on his arms to keep from collapsing on top of Skye, knowing his weight would probably crush her. He breathed slow, ragged breaths, feeling her still clenching around him, her fingertips digging into his shoulders. And then she relaxed with a breathy sigh, her legs going limp, and he smiled and leaned in to kiss her before easing carefully back and padding off to the bathroom to dispose of the condom.

She crawled almost atop him to snuggle against him when he returned, and he sighed happily and folded his wings around her.

"I could stay like this forever quite happily," Skye mumbled into his neck. Warren grinned, stroking her hair.

"I know how you feel. Sooner or later the world always intrudes, unfortunately."

"Well, we have four days. Three, now."

He was silent, and Skye groaned. "Shit. That was inconsiderate of me. _I _have three more days. _You_ have responsibilities, don't you?"

"There's only one thing that can't be postponed or cancelled. Tomorrow night, the charity foundation set up in my mother's name is having their annual gala fundraiser."

"Of course you can't blow that off!" she agreed immediately. "It's fine, Warren, you go…"

"I was hoping you'd come with me. Be my date." He shifted so that he could see her face. "We did talk about this. Kinda. I told you I wanted to show you off, see you in designer clothes."

Skye chewed on her lower lip uncertainly. "You're sure? I might do something horribly uncouth, embarrass you."

He grinned, shaking his head. "Trust me, Skye, I don't think you could embarrass me." He smoothed her tangled hair. "Let me pamper you. Buy you a fancy outfit, show you some of the benefits of being my girlfriend."

"I think I already found out the best ones," she said with a shy smile, making him laugh. "But – all right."

He kissed her again. "You're gonna look so gorgeous," he murmured, "I'll be fending off other guys all night."

"Nobody's going to be looking at me with you around," Skye disagreed, but he only smiled and shook his head.

"You'll see."


	7. Let Me Spoil You

**Chapter Seven – Let Me Spoil You**

"So," Skye leaned on Warren's shoulder a little later, "what do you want to do today?"

They'd tugged on clothes – Warren a pair of pants and Skye one of his shirts – and headed for the kitchen to find food. Warren promised that there would be no one else in the house yet, and she trusted him on that, so she didn't feel self-conscious about her bare legs. Warren's appreciative expression as she moved around the kitchen made her feel a little smug, too.

Skye had never been vain about her looks, but people had been telling her she was pretty for many years now. She was well aware that she could make most men look at least twice. Beside Warren's chiselled-cheekbones blond beauty, however, she felt plain and dull. The way he looked at her bolstered her spirits.

"Well," he turned his head and kissed her arm, "whatever you like. I'm more than happy to stay in bed with you all day, if you're willing."

The tip of one wing suddenly caressed up her inner thigh, making her jump and squeak. He let out a dirty laugh and turned to catch her in his arms, pull her into his lap. "Except," Warren murmured perceptively, "you're already getting a little sore."

Skye's eyes widened. "How did you know?" she blurted, a little shocked.

He shrugged, his wings rustling. "Your inner thighs are a little red, and you're moving stiffly. Like you just exercised a lot of muscles you aren't used to using."

She couldn't help but blush. "It's been a while," she admitted.

"Ward?"

"No!" she startled. "No, never. Nothing ever happened there, really. Just a few kisses, and for most of them I was play-acting because I knew he was HYDRA and I was playing along, waiting for my chance to get away. No, my last time was my ex-boyfriend Miles – God, well over a year ago now."

"Mm-hm," he was listening intently, as he always seemed to do when she spoke, his amazingly blue eyes fixed on her face. His arm around her was playing gently with the rolled-up sleeve of his shirt, his other hand smoothing along the top of her thigh. It was a comforting, non-sexual touch, and Skye was struck suddenly by just how comfortable she felt with him. How much she already trusted him. Impulsively she wrapped her arms around his neck and leaned in to kiss him.

"What was that for?" Warren smiled at her when she leaned back.

"For not being judgemental. For listening when I speak and not dismissing my opinion or telling me that my feelings aren't valid."

"I will never do that to you," he said quietly. "My father spent my whole life doing that exact thing to me, so I know how deeply unpleasant it is. Your opinions, your thoughts, your wants and needs, they are the most important thing in the world to me, Skye. I promise I'll never make decisions about your – about _our_ future without consulting you. I think that's the part of your story that made me most angry, actually, that Ward just didn't give a shit about what you wanted. That he insisted that he knew what was best for you. He's not your damn father and you're not five. And even if that were the case, he still should have _listened_ to you."

"I am so going to fall in love with you if you keep saying things like that," Skye managed to get out through the growing lump in her throat.

"Good," Warren said very quietly, his eyes still fixed on hers. "Because I'm already at least halfway there."

She kissed him again, soft and tender, leaned against his shoulder smiling. "I'm really not bothered about what we do today, Warren. Do you have any ideas?"

"Well, although I absolutely love the way you look in my shirt," he grinned, his hand smoothing over her thigh, "you do need a dress if you're coming with me to that gala tomorrow night."

Skye looked thoughtful, fingered the ends of her hair. "I could probably do with a visit to the hairdresser, as well. Um. Maybe buy some makeup…"

He laughed quietly. "Why don't you let me arrange everything? Spoil you, show you a few of those benefits of being my girlfriend I mentioned. Apart from getting to put your hands all over my body, obviously."

She hesitated. And then finally, shrugged. "All right. I'm pretty sure I couldn't afford any dress that would be remotely suitable for this do anyway."

He grinned. "You'd be surprised. Enough confidence, I've seen girls pull off some pretty radical things. That said – let me take you to Fifth Avenue and spoil you rotten. Please."

Skye grinned back at him. "Nobody's ever wanted to spoil me before. I think I might like it."

By the time she'd showered and dressed – despairing over her scruffy clothes, but she couldn't exactly go to Fifth Avenue in one of his dress shirts – he'd ordered the helicopter made ready, dressed himself casually in blue jeans, crisp button-down white shirt and a buttery-soft black leather jacket. Skye couldn't quite help a wolf-whistle as she found him pulling his boots on in the bedroom.

"How is it that you look absolutely fantastic in everything?" she complained.

Warren straightened, grinning, his eyes sliding over her appreciatively. She wore the same denim jacket and cowboy boots as yesterday, only with a blue and white striped shirtwaist dress under the jacket. "I could say the same thing." Slinging his arm around her shoulders, he hugged her close, dropping a kiss on her forehead. "Come on, Skye. Let me _Pretty Woman_ you."

"If the shop assistants are snotty I'll be outta there," Skye warned.

"They will seriously not be that stupid." _Not since he'd already called ahead, anyway_.

Skye smiled, reassured, and let him lead her out to the helicopter.

They landed atop his tower in the city and were met by a rather fawning personal assistant who handed Warren a tablet and gabbled business-talk at him for a few minutes while they rode down in the elevator. Warren merely nodded, handed the tablet back and said he'd answer some emails on his phone when he had time. They left the assistant in the elevator looking rather forlorn and Warren led Skye to a Bentley waiting at the kerb, a uniformed chauffeur holding the door open for them.

They headed to an exclusive beauty salon first. Warren actually got his own hair cut while the stylists fussed over Skye, and then settled down quite comfortably on a luxurious black leather couch to wait, reading his emails on his phone and making an occasional call.

"You could go back to the office, if you want," Skye said, feeling bad that she was keeping him from his work. "I think I might be a while here."

He glanced up, saw her face, and came over, bending to kiss her cheek, causing exasperated clucks from the stylist. "I'm not going anywhere. Not unless you want me to," he said in a soft, husky voice in her ear, smiled as he saw her tiny tremor. "Carry on," he said to the stylist, lifting his head. "Do you want your nails done too, Skye?"

"Um," she looked down at her short nails, winced as she realised she'd been nibbling on her thumbnail again recently. "I suppose."

"You might as well have a pedicure too. You might be wearing open-toed shoes, you'll want your feet to look pretty." Warren nodded at the stylist. "See to it."

Skye found herself laughing as she was almost swarmed by beauty therapists. Until they told her to hold her face still so they could wax her eyebrows.

"Voila!" the head stylist exclaimed at last, spinning her chair around to show her off to Warren. "What do you think, Mr Worthington? A true transformation, is it not?"

He looked at her, cocked his head very slightly. And then he stood, came over to her and cupped her chin in his hand.

"No. She's still the most beautiful woman I've ever seen."

Skye couldn't help but blush, and he gently turned her chair back around, encouraged her to look in the mirror. "It's not for me to judge, Skye. I'm biased. Do _you_ like how you look?"

She did, she decided after a moment. She really did. The changes the stylists had wrought were subtle, but they added up to create a superbly stylish look.

"Now you come back in tomorrow afternoon and we will dress your hair for the gala, make you up to look fabulous for the cameras," she was admonished as Warren offered his arm for her to take.

"Thank you," Skye said a little shyly. "You've been very kind."

Her thanks was waved off with a rather pleased smile, and then Warren escorted her back to the limo. "Neiman Marcus, I think," he said to the driver, "and if we have no luck there, we'll try Bloomingdale's."

"I'm pretty sure I can manage to pick out a dress from the selection Neiman Marcus are likely to have," Skye grinned, snuggling into his side when he held his arm out for her.

"No doubt. The _right_ dress, however, might be a little more difficult to come by." He hesitated, and she could tell that he was worried about offending her. "If you're going to spend time at my place when you can, we could pick you up a few other things to leave in my wardrobe. Save carrying a bag around with you."

Skye smiled up at him. "Well, you did promise me the full Pretty Woman treatment. A whole new wardrobe would seem to be a part of that."

Warren smiled. "Sweetheart, Richard Gere ain't got nothin' on me. You aren't gonna know what hit you."

Skye hadn't quite known what to expect. Had thought they'd just browse around the store. She really hadn't expected the store manager and no less than five personal shoppers – and a gaggle of assistants – to descend on them the instant they walked in, sweep them off to a luxurious lounge and ply them with champagne and caviar. It took her a few moments to notice the personal shoppers circling around her like a shark round live bait.

"What are they doing?" she whispered to Warren.

"Assessing what will suit you, and working out your measurements." He leaned closer, breathed quietly in her ear "For obvious reasons, I don't allow myself to be measured and prodded at. I thought you might well be uncomfortable with that too, so I made it clear that nobody was to touch you. These folks," he nodded at the three women and two men, "are professionals. They don't need to measure you up to know what size you are."

"Huh. Neat," Skye took a sip of her champagne and watched as the personal shoppers seemed to come to a consensus and swept out, the gaggle of assistants trailing along behind. "Now what?"

"Now they bring you a selection of things to try on," Warren shrugged, gestured across the room to a door. "There's a changing room in there. You can take one of them in with you to help you with buttons and zips if you need. One of the women, please, for my peace of mind?"

That made Skye laugh. "I think both those guys were more interested in you than me, darling," she leaned against him, smiling up at him.

That only made Warren smile. "I've no eyes for anyone but you, whether male or female," he said softly, and was bending his head to kiss her when the first assistant returned, pushing a filled clothes rail.

"Um, sorry sir, sorry miss!" the unfortunate girl turned to bolt.

"It's all right…" Warren's eyes passed over her name tag, "… Luci. Please, come in. Skye's ready to try some things on."

"I am?" He took the champagne glass from her hand, grinning down at her.

"Come on, Skye, this is your Cinderella moment. All those rom-com makeover montages rolled into one. Let me see you in something as beautiful as you are."

"Do I have to prance out of the changing room and show you every one?" she teased.

"Only if you want to." He placed a lingering, gentle kiss on her lips. "Careful though. If you show me that gorgeous body of yours in something too racy, I might not be able to restrain myself."

She rolled her eyes and sneakily pinched his ass, making him chuckle as he sat down and made himself comfortable. "Roll on, Fairy Godmother Luci," he gestured grandly, making the assistant blush and giggle as she followed Skye into the changing room.

Skye had never seen such clothes. The fabrics alone felt incredible against her skin, the cut of the gowns - she was lost immediately in the lush sensuality of wearing such magnificent things, unable to decide. Dithering miserably, she wasn't really aware of Warren shooing everyone out, not until he was standing behind her, smoothing his hands over her shoulders gently.

"I feel like a fraud," she confessed, hanging her head.

"Why?" he asked simply.

"Because, I don't know. I don't belong here. I feel like everyone will be looking at me, judging me, seeing the girl who lived in her van not much more than a year ago." Skye shut her eyes and leaned back against Warren, and he wrapped his arms around her.

"Shhh," he murmured in her ear. "You're wrong, Skye. All anyone will see is how beautiful you are." He pressed a line of soft kisses from her ear down her neck, his arms tightening around her waist. "And how besotted I am with you." His voice was a low, husky whisper that weakened her knees.

"Will you choose for me?" Skye asked softly after a few moments. "You'll have a much better idea of what's appropriate."

He hesitated a moment. "You were breathtaking in all of them. But there was a turquoise gown, the third or fourth you tried on, I think - you took my breath away in that."

Skye smiled. She'd liked that dress herself, it was probably the most comfortable of all that she'd tried on, but worried that the soft, sleeveless chiffon was a little too informal. "You think it would be suitable?"

"Perfect." He hadn't let go of her, returned his mouth to her neck now and nibbled until she trembled against him.

"Warren - not here!" Skye gasped it out as his fingers moved up to tweak her nipples lightly through her bra. He made a grumpy sound, and then sighed and dropped his hands.

"You're so beautiful I can't resist," he apologised, and she smiled.

"I suppose I _am _standing around in just my underwear."

"And utterly delectable you look too," Warren murmured, tracing a fingertip lightly along the lacy edge of her bra. Skye smiled and grabbed his hand, tugging it away.

"Behave. Go on, go and call them back in so I can tell them we chose a dress."

"Sure. Shall I tell them to bring you casual clothes next?" He saw the uncertain look she gave him. "Whole new wardrobe, remember? Not just one dress."

Skye sighed and nodded. "Okay."

An hour and about forty outfits later, she was regretting humouring Warren. At least until he abruptly stood up and called an end to the fitting session, saying that they had to go. He shook his head when she said she'd just change back into her old clothes.

"Why? You look lovely."

She looked down at the designer pantsuit and silk blouse she was wearing, the cute kitten-heeled pumps the assistants had paired with the outfit. "Oh. I - okay." The shoes alone were probably worth more than her old van. "I'll just get my… phone."

Warren's mouth twitched with amusement as Skye retreated. "We'll take everything," he said quietly to the nearest personal shopper, "charge it to my account and have it delivered, today if possible, otherwise first thing tomorrow morning. Make sure her old clothes are included."

The shopper looked disapproving. "We could dispose of the old things…" she swallowed as Warren turned a cold gaze on her. "Yes, of course, Mr Worthington. As you wish."

Skye came out then, slipping her phone into a smart designer purse Luci was pressing on her, thanking the other girl with a genuine smile before tucking her hand into Warren's offered arm and smiling up at him. "Let's get out of here," she said, softly but enthusiastically, and he grinned back.

"So what's so urgent that we need to get to?" Skye asked as they headed out to the waiting car.

"Food," Warren replied, "you looked hungry and fed up."

Surprised, she stopped half-way into the car, looking up at him until he urged her in and followed her into the backseat, waving the driver off and closing the door himself.

"I think I'm falling in love with you," Skye said softly, looking across at Warren, and he took her hand and lifted it to his lips, before closing his eyes and nuzzling her palm with his cheek.

"I _know _I'm already in love with you," he responded, his voice deep and sincere.

**I promised you guys this wasn't abandoned. I've been quietly working on it for a while now and have 3 more chapters in the bag and I think I know how it's going to end, too, in about 3 more chapters from now. I plan to post about one chapter per week.**

**I didn't post anything earlier because I didn't want to go on another long hiatus. This isn't the only 'on-hiatus' fic I've been working on either.**

**Thank you all for being so patient and I hope you enjoyed!**


	8. I Will Be Your Home

**Chapter Eight - I Will Be Your Home**

Warren took her to a swanky restaurant, where Skye instantly had the feeling that everyone was staring at her - and then she relaxed as they were escorted into an intimate, private dining room with a table beautifully set for two. Warren held her chair himself before allowing the waiter to hand her a menu as he seated himself opposite her.

"May I bring you some drinks to start, sir, madam?" the waiter inquired.

"Would you like some wine, Skye?" Warren asked.

"Are you having some?" she checked, and when he shook his head, she declined also. "Just some sparkling water then, please," she smiled at the waiter.

Once the man left and they were alone, Skye looked down at the menu. "Gosh - this all looks complicated," she mumbled, reading the first few dishes.

"It's not really. They just seem to have an urge to list every single ingredient and describe it in flowery terms," Warren said dryly, making her laugh and feel instantly more relaxed. "Is there anything you don't eat, Skye?"

"I don't like avocados, zucchini or eggplant," she admitted, "and I'm not a huge fan of red meat, though I do eat it."

"Okay," he said, and she could tell he was mentally filing the information, no doubt to pass on to his house staff. When she was still chewing her lip and surveying the menu a couple of minutes later, after their drinks had been delivered, he said thoughtfully "I'm trying to decide between the chicken pasta and the salmon with vegetables. What do you think?"

"The salmon does look good," Skye agreed. "But then, it all looks good."

"Why don't you have the salmon then, and I'll get the chicken, and we can swap and taste?"

"Good idea," she agreed with some relief, putting the menu down and sipping at her water.

Warren was so easy to talk to. And he was clearly going out of his way to make her feel comfortable, Skye realised that, but it was done gently and kindly, without a hint of condescension or an 'I know what's best for you' attitude. He was clearly thinking things through, being careful to give her space to make her own choices, and she deeply appreciated the effort. Considering his position, the power he so casually commanded and the respect he received without even trying, Skye took his actions for the expressions of love and care that they obviously were - and the walls she'd built around her heart crumbled a little more with every thoughtful word and deed.

They enjoyed a delicious lunch, but afterwards, as they were walking out to the car arm in arm, Skye's face turned up to Warren's as she laughed at something he said, a flashbulb went off in her face.

"Who's the new arm candy, Warren?" a voice shouted.

The ground trembled very slightly under their feet. Warren's hand clenched on Skye's arm and he all but shoved her into the car, getting in after her, ignoring the repeated flashes of the camera as the photographer tried to get closer.

"Go," Warren barked at the driver, slamming the door hard.

"I'm sorry, sir, I never saw them, they just popped up out of nowhere!" the driver said apologetically.

"Someone in the restaurant must have called, tipped them off. Likely another diner," Warren said with a shrug. "Not your fault." His hand wrapped warmly around Skye's as he tapped the button to close the privacy screen.

"Are you okay?" he asked softly once the driver could no longer hear them.

"I…" she blinked rapidly, still a bit stunned. "I - I'm sorry. It was just so _unexpected_. I'll deal better at the gala, I promise."

"You don't need to apologise. The fault is mine, I should have warned you that it could happen. Unfortunately, I have a certain degree of celebrity, and that makes me fair game for the _paparazzi_."

"And by extension, me as well," she said glumly. "It's all right, Warren," as she saw his anxious expression. "This is part of you. I'll learn to deal."

"I wish you didn't have to." His jaw was set in a grim line, and she couldn't resist leaning over, stroking her fingers over it lightly, reaching up to press a light kiss on his lips.

"It's fine, Warren." She smiled. "I just hope they caught my good side!"

He snorted with laughter, put his arm round her and hugged her close, returning her kiss. "I don't think you've got a bad side."

"Why Mr Worthington," she fluttered her eyelashes at him, "flattery will get you everywhere, don't y'know."

"Yeah?" he licked his lips, gave her a very hungry look. "Well, that's what I was hoping."

They were kissing lustily when the car drew to a stop in the basement of the Worthington Building; Warren sighed as the engine shut off, lifting his head reluctantly. "Much though I'm enjoying this, I can think of any number of places better than the backseat of my car to continue."

Skye slipped her hand into his as they got out of the car. "Indeed. I've been thinking about that desk of yours..."

Warren almost fell over his feet, mashed his finger down hard on the elevator button. "_Skye,_" he said plaintively.

"Am I making you uncomfortable, darling?" she twined around him like a cat, smirking up at him. He was _very_ uncomfortable, she could tell; while his beautifully tailored clothes concealed his arousal from view, she could certainly feel it as she pressed herself against him. He made a little growling noise in his throat, his hands hard as he pulled her against him, lifting her hips to grind against her, grateful that the elevator would go directly to his private office as she started unfastening his shirt.

They barely retained enough presence of mind not to leave any discarded clothes in the elevator, kicking them out onto the office floor, flinging the rest aside as Warren half-carried, half-dragged Skye to his desk.

"Please," she begged, maddened with need, and he set her hips on the desk and slid open a drawer, scrabbled for a condom with one hand as his other burrowed between her legs, his hot mouth searching and hungry on her breasts, his wings curving around her to hold her balanced. The softness and heat of his feathers had Skye moaning, crying out desperately, a gush of slick soaking his fingers as three of them thrust hard inside her.

"_Warren_," Skye almost sobbed, clutching at his shoulders before suddenly getting a clue and running her hands down across his chest and around his sides, reaching to stroke the base of his wings.

"Oh fuck yeah," Warren groaned, head falling back. Desperately, he scrabbled at the condom, had to bring the foil packet to his teeth to rip open, all the while Skye stroking at the root of his wings, curving her fingers to scritch through the soft downy feathers. "You have - no idea - what that does to me," he panted, a little frantic.

Skye smiled, and then gasped as he lifted her hips in ridiculously strong hands and pushed slowly into her, his wings behind her back tilting her gently until her head and shoulders were on the desk.

"Aaaahhh," she moaned out, wrapping her legs around Warren's torso. She felt a sudden tingle on her ankle, realised the words there must be close to the ones on his back. "Warren - bond with me."

He stilled, gazed down at her, pupils blown wide so that only the thinnest ring of blue showed around the outside. "Are you sure?"

"Never been more sure of anything in my life," she replied softly.

"This position...?"

"The words are on my ankle - this will probably work best."

His grin turned a little wicked. "Good thing you're flexible, babe." His hips rolled slowly, beginning long, slow thrusts inside her, his wings shifting until he could stroke her breasts with the tips.

Skye could only make frantic incoherent noises, her hands clawing at the desk's wooden surface, getting even more agitated as he shifted to support her bottom with one hand, pulling her a little forward over the edge, his other hand moving between them to stroke and tease her exposed clit.

"Oh fuck Warren, oh yes, please, oh, ohhh, I'm gonna come..."

"Yes," he gritted out as her foot landed on the base of his wing and the tingle in his soulmark grew to a raging itch. "Yes, Skye, baby, oh fuck, want you so much, feels so good, want this always..."

The climax hit them both at the same instant, a crashing wave of sensation, the bond born into existence between them as the rest of the world was ripped away. And in that endless moment they found each other, looked into each other's souls and found their match, two sides of the same coin, two halves of one whole. Skye saw, _understood_, the fear and pain that Warren had lived with for so many years as he struggled to keep his dangerous secret while living a life in the public eye, and he in turn saw Skye's uncertainty, the desire to know who she truly was, to find a true home for herself that had driven her all her life.

"I will be your home," he whispered his ultimate truth into the vast caverns of her mind.

"I will always protect your secret," she whispered back, and they gazed into each other's eyes, both knowing that one day, they would be this close all the time, in each other's minds, knowing each other truly.

But for now, the bond was too new to sustain such deep contact for more than a fleeting moment, this moment of intense pleasure, of freedom from the usual constraints of consciousness; and slowly, reluctantly, they had to break contact, to draw back into their own minds before pleasure became pain.

There were tears on Skye's cheeks when she opened her eyes, grief that she couldn't yet remain in such deep communion with Warren, and she saw wetness in his own eyes as he looked down at her. She tried to smile as she lowered her legs and he eased out of her carefully, sitting down in his office chair and drawing her gently into his lap. Resting her cheek on his shoulder, she sighed, content for now to just sit close and quietly explore the bond between them, a thin, poor thing compared to what it had been just a few moments ago but very real, even if it was just a vague awareness of Warren's own wondering contentment and joy.

Warren stroked Skye's hair slowly as she curled in his lap, radiating a sense of amazed joy. He would always be able to find her, he thought; even if he closed his eyes and spun around until he was dizzy he would still be able to point unerringly in her direction. No one would ever be able to hide her from him, which was a wonderfully reassuring thought considering what she had told him about her father and Ward. Happier than he could ever remember being, he snuggled her close and pressed soft kisses against her hair.

It was Skye who stirred at last, glancing out of the window at the lengthening shadows. "Are we going back to your house?" she asked quietly.

"Mm," Warren sighed and nodded. "Yeah. Better get moving I suppose."

Skye climbed out of his lap reluctantly, smiling crookedly. "Look what you did to my beautiful new things," she mourned, gesturing to the expensive suit and blouse now crumpled on the floor.

"You're lucky I didn't rip them to shreds," Warren grinned, standing behind her and bending his head to kiss just below her ear, in the spot he'd discovered made Skye sigh and melt against him. He curved his wings forward, wrapping them around her. "I'll keep you decent."

She glanced down, grinning at the sight of the white feathers covering her. "Now that's an exclusive gown."

"One only," he agreed with a chuckle.


	9. Come Fly With Me

**Chapter 9 - Come Fly With Me**

Warren flew them back to his house, where once again his very discreet staff had been busy, leaving a delicious meal in the kitchen ready for them and even changing the sheets on Warren's bed.

"It's like having house-elves, being very rich," Skye said musingly as she sipped at the glass of iced tea Warren poured for her.

He choked on his own drink with laughter. "Well, it's not quite Hogwarts, but they do their best."

She grinned. "Somehow I didn't see you as a Harry Potter fan?"

"Soulmate, Skye," he rolled his eyes at her, smiling gently. "It's highly likely that if you enjoy something, either I do too or I just haven't discovered it yet - or vice versa, and I can't tell you how much I'm anticipating showing you some of the more fun treats money can buy."

"Yeah?" Skye's eyes brightened. "Such as?"

"Well, travel to exotic places is one of my favourites, but I daresay you've done a bit of that with SHIELD already?"

Skye grimaced. "Yeah. Well, there was the one-hour stopover in Hawaii. The visit to Australia to hack a military satellite station in the middle of the night, where I never even got off the plane. Getting shot at in Peru on my very first mission and quite a few more places since, nearly freezing my ass off in northern Canada somewhere, not to mention that time I almost destroyed the island of Puerto Rico."

Warren reached out, took her in his arms as he sensed the dark memories overwhelming her. "I see SHIELD's travel planning leaves a lot to be desired," he murmured quietly. "I'll show you those places properly - surfing Pipeline in Hawaii, diving on the Great Barrier Reef, watching the sunrise at Machu Picchu, skiing in Canada..."

"No Puerto Rico though, please," Skye begged. "Too many memories."

He kissed her brow. "No Puerto Rico. I'll take you to Paris instead, kiss you atop the Eiffel Tower in the City of Light."

"You're a total romantic," Skye discovered delightedly.

"Skye, I've been waiting for my soulmate to have a chance to indulge in any of this kind of behaviour. Planning everything I would say to her, do for her. If there's anything you don't like the idea of, all you have to do is say so, but frankly I fully intend to spend the rest of my life spoiling and indulging you shamelessly."

Heart full, Skye gazed up at him before wrapping her arms around his neck and hugging him tightly. "Nobody's ever wanted to spoil me before," she mumbled against his throat.

"Must have been Fate, reserving all rights to spoil you for me," Warren murmured in reply, nuzzling her hair. "We made a small start today, but I've got lots more ideas."

"A three-thousand dollar designer gown and thousand-dollar shoes is a _small_ start?" Skye squeaked. "Not to mention that beautiful suit..." which was crumpled on the floor again, of his bedroom this time.

"Didn't I mention?" Warren grinned lazily, lying back and stretching. "I bought the lot."

"What do you mean, _the lot_?" Skye stared at him.

"Everything you tried on. It'll be delivered here tomorrow sometime..."

She hit him with a pillow. "Warren!"

He fended her off gently, laughing. "Two outfits does not count as a full _Pretty_ _Woman_ makeover. And I had the feeling that you don't actually enjoy shopping all that much, that you wouldn't care to go through that experience every week?"

She paused, pillow still held high. "Damn - you're annoyingly correct."

"Plus, you looked gorgeous in everything. I want a private showing. Where I get to peel those lovely things off to reveal your even more delectable body beneath..." he waggled his eyebrows salaciously, and she whacked him with the pillow again, before squealing with laughter as he grabbed her wrists and flipped them both over so he was on top, his wings sweeping up behind him and flaring wide.

"Come fly with me," he requested suddenly. "I want to share the sky with you."

She didn't insult him by asking if it would be safe. He'd never allow any harm to come to her, of that she was sure. So she got up and followed him into the other room, pulled on a pair of leggings and a sports bra. Warren handed her a thick cashmere sweater, one of his own.

"Here, you'd better wear this. I don't feel the cold but you will."

He was just wearing his black tactical pants, his feet bare, but Skye took the time to pull on socks and boots. It was late summer, but he was right, it would likely be cold in the air with the wind rushing past her. She walked out to the balcony to join him. He was standing on the low stone balustrade, his wings fully flared, feathers rustling slightly in the breeze. Testing the wind, Skye realised, as he turned and offered his hand to held her up beside him.

"I'll rig up some sort of harness so that neither of us will have to hang on next time," he said quietly, wrapping an arm around her waist. "You needn't, if you feel secure enough. I won't drop you."

"I know," she agreed, but she put her arms around his neck anyway. "I like holding on to you anyway, though."

A smile lit his face, and he bent to kiss her, the kiss quickly turning hungry. Skye lost herself in it so deeply she didn't even feel her feet lift off the ground, but a moment later he lifted his head and she felt the sudden massive _whoosh _of wind as his wings took their second huge beat.

"Oh my God," she whispered, turning her head against his shoulder to look forward. His arm was firm and steady around her, there was no sense of strain in his body as his wings beat steadily, lifting them up and away from the house, until he found a thermal and spread them wide to soar.

He was right, it was cold, and she was grateful for the thick sweater and the warmth of his arm around her, his body against hers. But it was incredibly beautiful to see the world this way, flying without need of an aeroplane, and Skye's breath caught with wonder as they flew out over the night-dark ocean and she saw the lights of ships far below them, the night sky an upturned bowl filled with stars behind Warren's shoulder.

"It's amazing!" she called to him, and he smiled and kissed her again, his wings effortlessly holding them aloft as he soared.

They didn't stay out long, but long enough for Skye to gain her confidence, to let go her grip around Warren's neck and twist in his hold to face forward, trust him to hold her and not let her fall. He nuzzled her ear, uncaring of her hair flying in his face, loving her for being unafraid. They returned to the balcony at last and he landed lightly, slowly easing her to her feet but not letting go his grip.

"That was wonderful!" Skye's eyes shone like the stars as she looked up at him, and he smiled, folding his wings with a shushing whoosh of feathers.

"Best flight of my life." Reaching down, he hooked his other hand behind her knees, scooped her up into his arms and hopped lightly down off the balustrade. "Let's make it the best _night_."

Skye's laughter trailed out behind them into the cool night air as he carried her back to bed.

Skye was still fast asleep - curled up kitten-like on one of his wings - when Warren's phone buzzed softly. He reached out a long arm to snag it, brought it up and looked at the screen. Cursed softly under his breath, scrolled and tapped a few times before finally laying the phone down, his lips tight, and looking back over at Skye. His expression softened at the sight of her slumber, peaceful face.

_Let her sleep. Time enough for this later._

Warren wasn't there when Skye woke, but she could hear water running and guessed he was in the shower. He preferred to shower rather than bathe for the most part as it was easier to keep his wings dry, and while they rarely needed washing, he'd told her laughingly that they were a bit of a pain to completely dry and he'd ended up soaking his clothing more times than he could count.

Stretching luxuriously, Skye considered staying in bed a little while longer. But she could see the sun was high, and they needed to move, to go into the city so she could collect her dress and get her hair and makeup done for the gala that evening. They'd be staying at Warren's town apartment afterwards so she'd want an overnight bag too… she was still lying there thinking about what to pack when he came back out from the shower, a towel wrapped around his lean waist.

Well, if she could tempt him back to bed, the rest of the world could just wait. She smiled up at him alluringly before seeing his expression.

"What is it?" Skye sat bolt upright.

"I'm sorry, Skye." He reached for the nightstand, picked up a tablet and turned it on, offered it to her. "I didn't think they'd be this quick."

It was a photo of her and Warren leaving the restaurant, Skye hanging on his arm, smiling up at him. He must have become aware of the photographers an instant before the photo was taken, because the look on his face was coolly unemotional.

_Worthington bored with latest squeeze before we even know her name!_ the article began.

Skye snorted, keyed the tablet off again and dropped it without looking at the rest. "Eh. It's nothing. You're newsworthy." Looking at his expression again, she reached out her hand to him. "Warren, you and I know it's not true. That's all that matters."

He sighed, took her hand and sat down on the bed beside her, shoving the tablet aside.

"I know - I just - I don't like them talking about you like that."

"They'll call me worse once they know I'm sticking around," Skye shrugged. "They'll call me gold-digger and opportunist and all sorts of other ugly names."

Warren hesitated. "Not if we tell the truth."

"I can't exactly tell them I'm a SHIELD agent! I have a cover ID, it's watertight…"

"Not that. We can tell them that you're my soulmate."

She hesitated - and the sudden spike of fear, not for herself, but for him, through the new bond, told him why, even before she spoke.

"He'll come after you. Ward, I mean. He's obsessed and he - he won't give up, he'll try to kill you…"

"Sshh," he touched his forefinger to her lips lightly. "Let me show you something." Opening a drawer in the bedside table, he removed a knife, a utilitarian black-handled dagger in a combat sheath. Skye's eyes widened as she saw it, but she watched in silence as he unsheathed it. And then shrieked with horror as he lifted it with his right hand and stabbed the blade straight through his left forearm.

"_Warren_, oh my God, what…" she blinked as he pulled the knife back out and the wound slowly but surely began to heal right in front of her eyes. "What. The. _Fuck_." She leaned closer, staring incredulously.

"I told you that when they cut my wings off, they grew back." Warren wiped the blade off on the ruined sheet and re-sheathed it. "I don't have a scar on my body, though I've taken some wicked wounds. I heal at an unprecedented rate, Skye. It's possible I can't die, too, though I don't have any particular urge to test the theory."

"Whoa." Skye's mind grappled with the implications. "That's - whoa. That's _huge_."

"And just one more reason why I can't let anyone know what I am. I'd be turned into a lab rat and studied until the scientists found out what made me tick."

She understood, she really did, but at the same time… "Would you be willing to give Jemma a blood sample?"

Warren grimaced. "Only if we find some plausible explanation for it, other than that it's mine."

She nodded, understanding. "We can do that. There's no rush. But you must see…"

"I do see, yes. There might be some kind of magical healing factor in my blood that could revolutionise medical science. But forgive me if I decline to be turned into a lab rat for it?"

"Of course." Skye touched his forearm wonderingly. There wasn't a trace that he'd driven a blade through it just moments before. If it wasn't for the blood spatter on the sheets, and the pain she knew he'd felt, she'd think it had been some sort of clever illusion, a conjuring trick. "And please don't ever do that again!"

He grinned, putting his arm around her and hugging her close. "I'm sorry if I scared you. It wasn't my intention. But just telling you - you might not have believed me. Do you see now why I'm not afraid of Ward? Not for myself. Frankly I'd love to get my hands on him to make him pay for what he's done to you."

"He didn't really _do _anything that bad to me, though," Skye claimed.

"He did enough to make you afraid to get close to anyone for fear he will hurt them out of jealousy. That's enough." Warren's jaw set in a hard line. "If I ever get my hands on him, I will teach him the error of his ways."

**One of these days, I really am going to have to let a character drop Ward from a great height, aren't I?**


	10. My Soulmate

**Chapter Ten - My Soulmate**

_I am not going to lose my temper. I can control myself._ Ward stared at the image on the screen in front of him. HYDRA's small but talented team of black-hat hackers he'd recruited had facial-recognition programs set up to scan for known SHIELD agents. The photo of Skye and Warren Worthington had been flagged up within seconds of online publication.

_He'll never understand you. He doesn't even value you. Why, Skye, why? What are you doing with HIM? _Ward would never have taken Skye for a gold-digger, but there she was, leaning on Worthington's arm, staring up at the haughty blond as though he was the answer to all her prayers - and the clothes she was wearing told Ward very clearly that Skye had been bought and paid for.

It wasn't until the sudden pain in his hand registered and Ward looked down to see blood on his knuckles, that he realised he'd put his fist straight through the screen.

He looked away. Realised the techs were all staring at him, fear on their faces. "Find out what Worthington's movements are for the next week," he ordered.

"Sir… he's cancelled all engagements except for the Lucinda Worthington Foundation annual gala tonight, sir," a tech told him a couple of minutes later.

"Hmmm." Ward nodded thoughtfully. "Get me an invite."

"Sir, the tickets go for fifty thousand dollars apiece and it's been sold out for months - yes sir, right away sir!" the petrified tech babbled, seeing Ward's expression change.

xoxoxoxoxoxoxox

Warren flew them back into the city at lunchtime, and after he and Skye regretfully concluded that they shouldn't be seen together in public today, not until Warren had a platform at the gala that evening to formally announce that he had found his soulmate, his driver took her to the beauty salon while Warren attended to some business. Her new wardrobe had been delivered to his city apartment already and unpacked; Skye could decide what she wanted to leave there and what she wanted taken to the Hamptons when she was ready.

The salon staff were just as deferential today as they had been with Warren in attendance, though Skye caught a couple of sidelong glances that told her they'd seen the photos. Nobody said a word about it, though, for which she was grateful, happy just to relax while she had her hair, nails and makeup expertly done.

Afterwards, the driver took her to Warren's city apartment, which turned out to be a ridiculously beautiful penthouse in what she guessed was an obscenely expensive building on Fifth Avenue, with spectacular Central Park views. And here she met, for the first time, one of Warren's personal staff, a middle-aged woman with a kindly manner who introduced herself as Rebecca, the housekeeper for the apartment.

"Would you like anything to eat, Miss Skye?" Rebecca asked. "Mr Worthington called, he should be home in half an hour or so, but he asked me to make absolutely sure you were comfortable in the meantime."

"Oh," Skye considered. "Maybe a sandwich?" she said a little hesitantly. "I don't know what there will be to eat at the gala…"

"It's a sit-down dinner," Rebecca said cheerfully, "but you might like to have a little something now, please, let me make you a sandwich. What do you like? Tuna, turkey, cheese, salad…" she chattered cheerfully, gesturing Skye to follow her to a kitchen, which was rather more like the steel and glass caterer's dream Skye had expected at Warren's house.

"Oh, I can make it," Skye protested, but Rebecca wouldn't hear of it and soon Skye was sitting at the breakfast bar with a delicious turkey salad sub sandwich in front of her, at least as good as anything Jemma might have made.

Warren arrived as she was halfway through eating, looking deliciously handsome in his pale grey business suit, his tie loose in his collar. "Mmm, dinner," he swooped on Skye from behind, wrapping his arms around her waist and pressing his face into her neck to nibble. She squeaked and tried to bat him off as his lips tickled, but he was ridiculously strong.

"Oh, pardon me!" Rebecca came in at just that moment and turned away hastily. "I didn't hear you come in, sir."

"It's all right, Rebecca," Warren let go of Skye and straightened up, though his hand remained on her waist. "Apologies if we embarrassed you. I'm afraid I just can't keep my hands to myself where my soulmate is concerned."

"Your _soulmate_?" Rebecca's eyes flew wide, and much to Skye's surprise she actually squealed with delight and hurried across the kitchen to embrace Warren and congratulate him before turning to Skye and kissing both her cheeks soundly.

"Rebecca was my father's housekeeper when I was a boy," Warren admitted to Skye once they finally escaped the older woman's enthusiasm and retreated to his bedroom to change for the evening. "He hired her after Mom died. She knows all about me - I guess she's the only family I've got, really."

"I know exactly how you feel," Skye told him affectionately. "People like us, orphans - we're lucky - we get to _choose _who we accept as family. Just imagine being stuck with a whole passel of ghastly uncles and aunts, cousins you have to be polite to…"

Warren laughed and reached to hug her. "That's a very positive way to look at it."

"Yeah - well, sometimes you've got to laugh, otherwise you'd be forever crying," Skye shrugged, hugging him back.

"True enough." His eyes darkened as he looked down at her. "Will I smear your lipstick if I kiss you?"

"Yes, but I can put more on." She grinned at him. "Just don't mess up my hair."

He made a regretful face, but then bent his head to kiss her, slow and soft. "No pushing you down on the bed and having my wicked way with you, then?" he murmured.

"Nope. And no, I'm not pushing you down on the bed either. I'll get all sweaty."

"Awww," he gave her an appealing look.

"_And_ we'll be late." Laughing, she fled to the bathroom before he weakened her resolve. It was definitely not fair for him to be so gorgeous.

Warren caught his breath as Skye came out of the bathroom in her dress.

"What do you think?" she posed a little shyly for him, hand on her cocked hip, one dainty foot in front of the other.

"You are a goddess," he said simply, his eyes drinking her in.

She laughed, rolled her eyes at him before looking him over properly. "You're looking pretty damn hot yourself."

He looked gorgeous in a tux, his bowtie hanging loose around his collar as he fixed his cufflinks. Skye smiled up at him, reaching up to flick at the ends of the tie. "I'd love to make like a movie love interest and fix that for you, but I've no idea how."

Warren laughed. "It's all right, sweetheart. I've been tying these since I was about nine." He turned to the mirror and swiftly and efficiently tied a smart knot. "There."

"Very Bond," Skye smiled, tucking her hand into the crook of his offered arm, glad of his support. She'd hardly worn high heels since joining SHIELD - and she'd never been all that fond of them before, anyway. It was taking a little practice to get back into the knack of walking in them, comfortable as the impossibly glamorous shoes were.

Warren's driver was waiting to whisk them to the Plaza Hotel, only a few blocks away, but then they could hardly have walked there, Skye mused, as the car stopped. Warren got out first and held his hand out for her as she slid across the seat, giving her an encouraging smile. She took a deep breath and put her hand into his, plastering a smile on her face and getting out of the car as gracefully as she could, swivelling on the seat to set both feet on the ground before standing up as the flashbulbs popped.

It was hard to see; she blinked several times. Questions were being shouted at her and Warren, but he just held up his hand, smiling charmingly, and shook his head.

"What's her name, Warren? Why are you being so secretive?" one reporter said right in his face.

"I'll be making a speech to open the gala," Warren said clearly. "All will be revealed, my friends. All in good time."

There were groans of disappointment, and a few more shouted questions. Skye kept her smile firmly in place and said nothing. She and Warren had agreed earlier on what would be said. Skye had long since built herself a watertight cover - watertight because her identity documents were real.

She'd tracked down her original birth certificate, in the name of Daisy Johnson. Applied to legally change her name to Daisy Skye Johnson, in case anyone asked why she used the name Skye. Painstakingly built herself a background - homeschooled, now employed by a small but real travel company owned behind the scenes by SHIELD. There was nothing to find, if anyone went digging. No one could prove that she was anything but what she claimed to be.

Inside, Warren introduced her to a few people as 'Skye' and left it at that. She evaded questions by being ingenuously charming, deflecting inquiries and asking people about themselves instead. Everyone liked to talk about themselves.

By the time they'd made their way to the head table, she felt emotionally exhausted already. So when she caught a glimpse of a tall, dark-haired man through the crowd that made a sudden pulse of fear jump through her, she convinced herself she was just imagining things, jumping at shadows. Ward couldn't _possibly _be here.

xoxoxoxoxoxoxox

He'd never seen Skye look so beautiful, not even in that pink dress she'd worn to infiltrate Quinn's estate on Malta. Ward's eyes devoured her ravenously, her dark hair swept up in a complicated arrangement which sparkled occasionally as she turned her head, tiny crystal hairpins catching and reflecting the light. Her slender neck was exposed, swanlike, so soft... he licked his lips, thinking about burying his teeth in her throat, marking her as _his_.

But she was with _Worthington_, hanging onto the useless parasite's arm tightly, pressing close to him as the curious crowd surged around them both. Ward's hands clenched into fists at his sides.

Worthington would have to die. He'd touched what didn't belong to him, sullied Skye's perfection with his money-grubbing hands. Ward would have to purify her, to make her his again, and only Worthington's blood would cleanse the stain. Skye would have to watch, too. To understand that permitting another man liberties that only Ward was entitled to claim, could lead to only one outcome.

Lost in a fantasy of bloody catharsis, Ward didn't realise that everyone was taking their seats until his neighbour tugged at his sleeve and hissed "Sit down!"

Worthington was standing, obviously going to make a speech since he had a microphone in his hand. Ward sat down hastily, not wanting to be the only one left standing, in plain view, in case Skye should spot him. _Not yet_.

"Ladies and gentlemen, honoured guests," Warren began, smiling broadly, "it is my honour to welcome you all here this evening…"

He carried on for a few minutes,_ blah blah blah charity blah mother_… Ward rolled his eyes._ I know what mothers are like. Be grateful yours died before you were old enough to remember the tormenting bitch, asshole._ He tuned out briefly, tuning back in with a start when he saw Worthington extend his hand to Skye. She took it and stood.

"Lastly, I'd like to share some wonderful news with all of you," Warren smiled around the room before looking lovingly down at Skye. "I've recently had the incredibly good fortune to meet my soulmate, Daisy Skye Johnson."

The room was frozen for an instant of shocked silence, and then an absolute storm of cheers and applause erupted, almost everyone getting to their feet, hooting and hollering. Ward's anguished scream of denial was lost in the din.

_He had to get out. Had to_… somehow Ward staggered to a bathroom, locked himself in the stall. Crouched down and vomited into the bowl. The word kept hammering at his ears, driving spikes of agony through his brain.

_Soulmate. Soulmate. Soulmate._

He vomited again, dry retching when there was nothing left to come up.

"You okay in there?" someone hammered at the door, suddenly.

"Just ate something that disagreed with me," Ward pulled himself together enough to croak. "I'll be alright."

"Okay. Just shout if you need help, yeah, there's plenty of doctors here tonight!" the voice said pleasantly before the man moved away.

Ward slumped against the wall, blinking stinging tears back from his eyes.

_Skye. Oh God, Skye. No. How? How is this possible?_ He'd never even known that she _had _a mark. She'd kept it damn secret.

"She led me on," he whispered to himself. "Let me believe that she could love me. And all that time, she _knew _she had a soulmate."

Had he thought he hated Christian, his parents? It was nothing compared to the scalding, terrible rage that filled him now. The bloody mist that rose behind his eyes.

"I'll kill her," he whispered to himself, taking comfort in the thought. Imagining Skye's torn, bloodied body flung in the dirt. Bleeding out slowly, in terrible pain, just like Kara had died. But he'd loved her too long and the image hurt him too. An anguished, animal sound tore out of Ward's throat.

_I have to get out of here. Have to plan… I'm going to attract attention. _Slowly, he pulled his iron composure back around himself. Smoothed his expression, straightened his tie.

_Breathe._

He walked out, but to leave he had to pass through the main room. And there he saw them together, Skye in the circle of Worthington's arms, looking up at him with that light in her eyes Ward had seen oh so very briefly for him, once upon a time.

Averting his eyes, he slipped silently away.


	11. Future Plans

**Chapter Eleven – Future Plans**

It was an amazing evening. Skye had never seen so much displayed wealth, in the jewels and gowns the women wore especially. Such conspicuous consumption disgusted her, and Warren felt the emotion, through their new bond, guessed at its cause.

"Remember that we're here to take their money," he murmured in her ear as they danced, making Skye grin. "You know - there's a lot of amazing things you could do with the Foundation. If you were interested."

"Maybe," she admitted. "I'm a little unsure if I'm going to be able to keep - doing what I've been doing."

"If you want to, we can work it out," Warren said softly. "After all, working for a _travel agency_, it's almost expected that you travel a lot."

"I'm not sure I'd want to be away from you that much, though," Skye confessed. "I think maybe I'd like to be just a, a, _consultant_. On call for emergencies."

Their conversation would have sounded utterly innocuous to anyone who might have been listening in, but they were both well aware of the subtext. Warren's arm tightened around Skye.

"I know I wouldn't want you to go to any danger spots without me. Perhaps I could join you on those occasions," he offered, making her blink in surprise.

"I'd have to talk to the boss about that," Skye admitted. She wondered just what Coulson knew about Warren. Not much that wasn't public information, she suspected, beyond the fact of his wings, now.

Warren shrugged. "I suspect at some point he's going to want to give me the shovel talk, anyway," he said dryly. "We could talk about me perhaps doing some consulting at the same time."

"But aren't you busy with your company?" Skye queried.

He made a face. "I don't have to be. I do it to keep busy." Thinking about it, he realised he'd never explained the true facts about his wealth to Skye. "I don't actually own it. Technically. It's complicated. My father knew I wasn't interested in wealth, suspected I'd do something stupid like sell the company and give all the money away. So he left everything tied up in trusts. I'm the sole beneficiary of the _income _from the trusts, but I have no control whatsoever over the ownership of the company. Or anything else. The house, my apartment… I couldn't sell any of it, even if I wanted to."

Astonished, Skye blinked up at him. He grinned down at her.

"That said, the income from the trusts exceeds a half-billion dollars a year. I give most of _that _away."

"What happens with the trusts eventually, though?" Skye asked curiously. "Will you ever get the money?"

"Nope. The trusts are sealed for a hundred years. The income is bequeathed, after me, to any 'heirs of my body' which means, obviously, children. Which is a conversation for you and me to have at a later time, when you're ready."

"A _much _later time," she agreed with a grin.

"If I don't have any children, then the Foundation gets everything," Warren shrugged. "Which I was OK with. The reason I work hard for Worthington Industries is to increase the profitability of the business, which in turn increases the income I get from the trusts - which increases the amount I can give to the Foundation, and other worthy causes."

"I see," Skye said, enlightened. "And… you'd want my help with that?"

"Your input into deciding where the money goes and how it should be used would be very much appreciated. I like to know that it's being used appropriately," Warren nodded, and she realised that he was asking her to keep him abreast on how SHIELD was using the funding he'd given them. The multi-millions of dollars that had started arriving from untraceable sources in SHIELD's almost-empty bank accounts within hours of their first meeting.

"I can do that," she said softly, squeezing his hand as he led her back to their table. "That's important."

"I'm glad you agree."

The rest of the evening went smoothly, and Skye soon found herself enjoying herself. Lots of people wanted to meet her, and she soon found that many of the folk present - who she'd mentally dismissed as wealthy parasites - were genuinely good people, philanthropic and thoughtful. Yes, they were inquisitive about her, and a few of the women she suspected of at least _thinking _unkind things, even if they were careful to keep them unvoiced tonight because Warren never left her side.

Skye consoled herself with the certainty that they were just jealous. Who, after all, wouldn't want to find out that they were soulmates with someone as handsome, wealthy and charming as Warren, even if they didn't really know him, didn't know the depths of his goodness?

By the time the evening ended - and as host, Warren had to stay until the bitter end, and Skye certainly didn't intend to leave him to face that duty alone - her face ached from smiling so much, but she could honestly say she'd had a really good time. Sitting in the car beside Warren on the way home, her head nodded against his shoulder and she fell soundly asleep in the five minutes it took them to drive to his apartment building.

Smiling, Warren waved off his driver's quiet offer of help and lifted Skye into his arms, the soft skirt of her dress draping over his hand. She sighed and nestled closer against him as he carried her up to his apartment and then off to bed, gently removing her shoes and dress and tucking her in carefully, joining her a few minutes later and folding his arms and wings tenderly around her.

xoxoxoxoxoxoxox

Ward wasn't sure exactly where he'd gone when he stumbled away from the Plaza. He walked and walked, beat the crap out of an idiot who tried to mug him, and finally became aware of his surroundings near dawn, when he found himself leaning on a railing staring down at the murky waters of the Hudson River.

Slowly, he took his phone out of his pocket. He'd turned it off before the gala, finally switched it back on now. Scrolled through the long list of text messages and missed calls. His underlings, panicking at his unexpected disappearance. _Idiots_. He sent a snappy text reply to one, and ten minutes later a car arrived to pick him up. The driver took one look at his expression and did _not _ask where he'd been.

"Orders, sir?" was all he said.

_Well, maybe they're not all idiots_. "Back to base," Ward ordered, leaning his head back against the back of the seat and closing his eyes. "I need to plan."

Plan how he was going to kill _both _of them. The only question was, who should die first?

**Yes, Ward's being obsessive and super creepy in this fic. It's not going to end well for him. If you're a Ward fan, I'm not sure why you're reading my work anyway, but likely enough you're going to want to stop now ;)**


End file.
